


Our Way To Fall

by lemonsorbae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Diabetes, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Parents Castiel & Dean Winchester, School Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-30 01:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 75,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13939293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsorbae/pseuds/lemonsorbae
Summary: Dean and Cas reunite at their fifteen-year high school reunion and after one night together Dean’s ready to marry the guy. But then he’s got a daughter back home that doesn’t necessarily make that equation possible, and so he does the next logical thing: high tails it out of Cas’ hotel room and doesn’t look back.Well, that was the plan anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> beta'd by literaryoblivion (thank you so much, sugar plum!)  
> 
> 
> Disclaimer: Dean is a dad in this story. His daughter is a very central part of the fic, and is in a good portion of the story whether she's making an actual appearance or Dean is thinking or talking about her. If toddlers aren't your thing, I'd suggest skipping this one.
> 
> I also wanted to mention that Jane (that's Dean's daughter) is a two year old who's quite attached to her pacifier, therefore her language is far from perfect. (Also she's two.) I wrote her dialogue to the best of my abilities - studied appropriate sounds for children of that age and everything - and apologize if reading her is difficult. When in doubt, read phonetically. I feel I've given enough clues in the text to help show what it is she's saying. If not, well. I tried.
> 
> Lastly, while I do work closely with children of Jane's age on a daily basis I do not have, nor do I know any children her age with diabetes. Everything surrounding that area is all strictly research based and I apologize in advance for any incorrect or skewed facts in that area. My best friend is diabetic, and she helped a lot with facts, but she wasn't diagnosed until she was eight so we were both still a little in the dark as age makes a big difference in this particular disease.

_May_

Dean smoothes his hands over his starched white shirt one more time and glares at his reflection - and then Charlie's - in the mirror. "You sure this isn't too fancy for business casual?"

Charlie clicks her tongue at him, pulling one of his hands into her grasp and unfastening the buttons at his wrists.

"Well you don't own a whole hell of a lot other than holey band t-shirts and flannel, so this will have to do." Her gaze is trained on Dean's arm where she's rolling up his sleeve in nice, clean folds. When it's secured just below his elbow, she reaches for his other arm.

"This is a bad idea," Dean mutters. His stomach is already in knots.

"This is _not_ a bad idea," Charlie counters. "High school reunions are prime opportunities for hookups - especially when it's been fifteen years since you've seen anyone - and you, my friend, are in desperate need of some booty."

"I am not."

Charlie fixes her green eyes on Dean, eyebrow cocked and mouth twisted into a challenging smirk. "When was the last time you got laid, Winchester? Do you even remember what goes where anymore?"

Dean's cheeks flush, and he shoots a glance at his bathroom doorway, assuring his daughter isn't anywhere within hearing range. "Shut up," he hisses. "Of course I do, fuck- it hasn't been _that_ long." Which, okay, maybe it has. Dean's pretty sure the last person he had sex with was Jane's mom, and Jane's almost three, so... Goddamn, it really _has_ been awhile. Time flies when you're raising a kid, apparently.

"Whatever. You need some action, and you know it. And I don't mean with your Invisible Lover, Dean. Tonight's your chance to show off your super hot bod to that one person that was always too good to talk to you in high school, rock their world, and leave them thinking about you for days."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm still playing that song," he quips. Charlie is right; Dean may have spent the better part of his high school and college years chasing tail, but he's a dad now, a business owner, and since Janie was born, his love life has been thrust on the back burner. Mostly because he doesn't have time. But, it's not like he makes time for it either. And anyway, tonight isn't about dating or even hooking up. It's about "reuniting." Or whatever.

He reaches for his aftershave, but Charlie intercepts him, grabbing the bottle of cologne Sam got him for Christmas a year ago. He can count on one hand the number of times he's used it.

"You're on the prowl tonight," she says, twisting off the cap and spritzing it on his collar. "Better go with the good stuff. Besides it smells expensive."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Knowing Sammy it probably was." Because Sam's a fancy-ass lawyer who can afford bullshit purchases like cologne that probably cost the equivalent of one month of preschool for Jane.

"And it's gone to waste on you," Charlie comments, giving him a once over and undoing the topmost buttons of his shirt before nodding, satisfied.

"Whatever," Dean grumbles, "despite what I smell like, at the end of the day I'm still nothing but a single dad, and a carpenter. Nothing to write home about." He turns to leave the bathroom, shutting off the light before Charlie's even through the door. "And I am not on the prowl," he adds.

"Mmmmhhhmmm."

In the living room, Jane greets him with bright green eyes and a curious smile. Dean swings her into his arms and grins when she puts her hands on either side of his face.

"You wook fancy, Daddy," she tells him around her pacifier. Dean knows she's probably too old for the damn thing - at nearly three years old - but he hasn't had the heart to get her to kick the habit quite yet. Maybe in a few months.

"Thanks, kiddo."

"Is auntie Charwee sweeping ovah?"

Dean nods, chuckling at Jane's barely distinguishable language. "That still okay?" he asks. "I can stay home if you want me to." He knows it's a cheap shot, using his daughter as a way out, but staying home with her and watching _Finding Nemo_ on repeat sounds a hell of a lot better than where he's going. To Dean's dismay, Jane shakes her head.

"No, Charwee sayed we're go'n eat pissa."

"I can't believe you're choosing pizza and this weirdo over me," Dean jokes, hefting a thumb in Charlie's direction. Jane giggles and pops her pacifier out so she can kiss Dean's nose then squirms in his arms. "Alright, alright," he says, kissing her forehead and setting her back on the ground. He watches her toddle off, strawberry curls bouncing.

Charlie draws Dean's attention away from Jane when she hands him his overnight bag with what could quite possibly be the smuggest fucking grin in the entire universe and pushes him towards the front door. "Don't worry about us," she says, "we'll be fine."

Dean goes easily but stops in the entryway, turning back, heart beating a nervous tattoo against his ribcage.

"Don't forget to check her sugar-"

"Before dinner and again before bed, I know," Charlie cuts in.

"And go easy on the pizza, it's not-"

"I know."

"If there's an emergency-"

"Call Sarah, then 911, then you, Dean, I _know_."

Dean's shoulders sag, and he looks away, biting his lip and blinking down at his shoes until Charlie's hand alights on his arm. "What if something happens?" he finally asks, eyes meeting Charlie's again, searching for the reassurance he hates to admit he needs.

Warmth floods her expression. "Who are you really worried about, her or you?" And isn't that the million dollar question?

"Does it matter?" Dean hedges.

Charlie lets her hand fall, crosses her arms over her chest. "It's one night, Winchester. You deserve it. And it's not like I'm sending you off to Moondor to negotiate with the Shadow Orcs, this is a high school reunion. With people you know."

"That's what I'm worried about," Dean admits.

"Dean." Charlie's voice is gentle, but prodding. He finds her gaze once more, her smile soft and crooked. " _Go_ ," she says.

Dean sucks in a breath, holds it in his lungs for a beat before letting it go. "Okay," he finally says. He pulls open the door and casts a final glance at his daughter. "Bye, Lady Jane, I love you," he tells her. She's already settled in front of the T.V. working the remote like a pro. Dean shakes his head. Since when did his kid get to be so fucking smart? Oh, that's right, since always.

"I wuv'oo too," she calls out, flashing Dean a big grin that he only gets half of around her pacifier.

Dean's heart melts, just like it does every time his baby girl looks at him like he's the most important person in the world. But Charlie is raising an eyebrow at him expectantly, and so Dean steps across the threshold.

 "Call me if you need anything," he says.

"We will."

"If it sucks, I'm coming home early," he calls out as he makes his way down the hall.

"If I see your face again before 9 am tomorrow morning, I really _will_ banish you to Moondor!" Dean wishes he didn't even know what the hell she's talking about, but one too many shots at Shurley's had led to Dean agreeing to LARP with her for a weekend one year, and she's never let him live it down since. And maybe it was kind of fun, but whatever. It's still weird.

~

The reunion is being held in a Marriot a little over an hour away. The drive passes easily with Zepp keeping him company, but it also gives him too much time to think about what Charlie had said. The thing is she hadn't been too far off when she'd mentioned that one person in high school who had never given Dean the time of day.

And even in fifteen years Dean still hasn't forgotten about Castiel Novak.

For at least four years, Dean harbored a major crush on the kid. The two of them never really spoke though (aside from that one time in history class when Cas had asked - albeit embarrassedly - to borrow a pencil) and most of that can be chalked up to Dean being the hugest chickenshit in the history of chickenshits. But honestly, the guy was pretty fucking intimidating - both good looking (if you can call absofuckinglutely hot 'good looking') and easily the smartest kid in their class, valedictorian and everything - so really, Dean can't be blamed for admiring from afar. Or, so he's convinced himself.

As he drives, Dean wonders if he'd be brave enough to talk to the guy now. He may have grown a few inches since high school and gained a little experience in the whole talking-to-people thing, but when it comes to men like Castiel, Dean's guess is he's still a great big chickenshit.

Whatever. It's not like the guy's gonna show up anyway. At this point, Cas has gotta be some big hot shot something or other. What would he get out of a night like this other than feeling sorry for all the nobody's he left behind?

~

Castiel shows up.

Dean doesn't initially see him because the minute he steps through the door, he's whisked directly over to Rhonda Hurley's table (and yeah, he still has a little trouble looking her in the eyes without flushing). After a few minutes of small talk, Dean breaks away and retreats to the bar already in need of a drink or five.

He's only been in the room a handful of minutes, but there's anxiety curling dutifully in his chest. He can’t recall the last time he focused on something other than Jane, or her diabetes, or the small woodworking business he runs out of his brother's garage - and if he's being honest with himself, Dean's afraid he's forgotten how to focus on himself.

He orders a whiskey and wonders if it's too soon to text Charlie and ask how Janie's doing. He's already got a hand in his pocket, running the tips of his fingers along the edge of his phone when someone comes to stand next to him, their presence drawing him from his thoughts.

"Dean?"

Dean's body goes rigid. That's definitely a voice he recognizes. It's deeper now - if that's even possible - rougher than it was fifteen years ago, but there's still no mistaking who it belongs to.

"Hey, Cas," Dean chokes, taking in the man's dark hair - slightly less wild now, but still alluringly unkempt - and bright blue eyes. Dean feels pinned to the spot by those eyes, prey in the scope of a gun, and he barely registers the bartender sliding his drink across the bar top.

Castiel's shoulders relax, and a small smile alights on his face like he's relieved Dean recognizes him. "Hello, Dean."

Dean swallows hard and nods, his eyes sweeping down Castiel's lean frame then back up again. If Cas was hot in high school, he's downright gorgeous now - just like Dean knew he would be - and Dean doesn't know quite how to handle that.

"Damn you look good," he blurts because apparently, he's writing the book on how to make a complete ass of oneself in under ten seconds flat. He scrubs a hand through his hair and grimaces. "Fuck, sorry about that, that was weird."

Castiel chuckles lowly, shakes his head. "No," he says, "I appreciate the compliment. You look good as well."

"You don't have to say that," Dean hears himself saying.

Castiel reaches across the bar top, catches Dean's wrist in his grasp. "I mean it, Dean. You're very handsome. You always have been."

Dean feels his face flush, and dammit, why is he such a goddamn mess? "Uh- thanks," he manages, wanting to look away, but wholly unable to. As a teenager, all he'd wanted was Castiel's attention, and now that he's got it, he doesn't know what to do with it.

"Shall we sit?" Castiel finally asks, cutting through the silence with an air of ease. It's like he's not nervous at all, and why would he be? Dean was the one who'd had the major hard-on for the guy, not the other way around.

"Yeah," Dean breathes. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Castiel's smiling again. The gesture makes Dean feel warm inside, comfortable in a way that’s completely foreign to him. "Come with me," Castiel says, "I have a table."

~

Roughly thirty minutes.

That's how long they talk before Dean's being slammed up against Castiel's hotel room door and kissed within an inch of his life. He doesn't really remember what got them from “ _So how've you been in the last fifteen years?”_ to “ _I have a room upstairs if you're interested…,”_ but he really does not fucking care because that's Castiel Novak's thigh between his legs, nudging against his rapidly growing erection, and there's no room in his head for much else. (Except for maybe Cas' tongue, which is currently dominating the ever-loving crap out of Dean's mouth.)

"Key?" Dean groans when he feels Castiel's arousal nudge his leg. He feels a little bit desperate, and a little bit embarrassed by getting turned on so quickly, but god _damn_ Cas feels so good pressed up against him like this, and it's like all of his teenage fantasies are coming true in ways he could never have even imagined.

"Coming," Cas grunts. He makes an attempt to reach into his pocket, but as he does his hips leave Dean's and Dean absolutely cannot have that so he reaches down and yanks them back, greedy for the contact.

Castiel huffs. "Dean, I can't-"

Dean kisses him again, his tongue sweeping out and sliding along Cas' bottom lip. For a moment, the other man just stands panting into Dean's mouth. Dean smiles.

"Always wondered what it would be like to render you speechless," Dean admits with a cheeky grin. But, as soon as the words are out and he realizes what he's just confessed, he grows very still, breath shallow for an entirely new reason than Cas being an amazing kisser and having the thighs of a god.

Castiel settles for a beat, his expression shifting into something unreadable, and Dean thinks he's really fucked things up now. _What a way to be a creep, Winchester._

"What did you say?" Castiel asks quietly, his lips still so close to Dean's.

"Uh-"

"Dean, what did you mean by that? You _always_ wondered?"

Dean shrugs, wanting to move out from under Castiel's gaze, his heated touch, but he's still very much in Dean's personal space, their chests bumping together as they breathe, and Dean can't look away.

"I don't know," Dean finally says, "I kinda had- a crush- on you. In high school. But, it's not a big deal, it's not- you don't have to worry about this being weird, I just-"

"Dean," Castiel interrupts quietly, a smile in his eyes. Dean feels like he's either missed the punchline to a joke, or he is the punchline...

"Yeah," he mutters.

"I had a crush on you, too."

Dean's brain screeches to a halt. "Wait, what?"

"Yes," Castiel emphasizes with a nod. "I wanted to tell you, all those years, I just never knew what to say."

And if Cas is telling the truth, this is the best damn thing Dean's heard all night. Hell, it's one of the best things he's heard in maybe forever, right after, "Congratulations, Mr. Winchester, it's a girl."

"Are you fucking with me?" he asks because stuff like this does not happen to him - it's too easy. He's got the world's greatest daughter, a kick-ass brother, and a nerdy, awesome, _totally nerdy_ best friend, but other than that, life just does not work out for Dean. It just doesn't.

But, he looks at Cas, _really_ looks at him, and he sees nothing but truth. It feels a little like the rug's being torn right from underneath him but also like he's floating rather than falling.

"I am not fucking with you," Castiel says, the confirmation of his words deepening in his eyes. "Dean, I once pretended to need a pencil in history class just so I'd have a reason to speak to you."

So, Cas remembers history, too.  

"Then, what the hell are we doing out here?" Dean finally balks because holy shit they probably could have been doing this a long time ago. Like fifteen years ago a long time ago.

Castiel lets out a laugh, shakes his head. "I don't know."

They manage to get the door open - somehow, between their roaming hands and mouths - and Castiel backs Dean up to the bed, pawing at his clothes and cupping him through the thin fabric of his dress slacks.

"Take your clothes off, Dean," Castiel rumbles against Dean's lips, "I've been waiting over fifteen years to see you naked."

Dean chokes on air, the blatant honesty of Castiel's request strangely satisfying, and his hands fly to the buttons on his shirt. "You too," he says because an eloquent man is he.

Castiel pulls back, nods, and tugs his sweater vest - still with the sweater vests, it was always a sweater vest - over his head.

Sans clothing, Castiel is near perfect. His skin is sun-kissed and golden (complete with a hint of a farmer's tan) and his body’s all lean lines and taught muscle - and his thighs - dear _god_. As Dean openly stares at him, like he's never seen another naked man before in his life, _goddamnit_ , he knows two things for sure 1) Cas has officially ruined any other naked form for Dean ever, and 2) he kind of wants to curl in on himself; hide the softer bits of his body that have come from one too many ice cream sundae dates with his daughter and not enough days at the gym.

Instead, Castiel pushes him onto the bed, drinks Dean in with eyes so full of want Dean can almost feel the other man's gaze like a physical touch. "You're beautiful," Castiel breathes, and Dean nearly cries.

Dean huffs, tugging at Castiel's arm. "Get down here."

**:::**

Everything about being with Castiel was what Dean always knew it would be, and, at the same time, nothing he'd ever imagined.

Castiel was a generous, tactile lover - showing Dean a level of intimacy he's never quite experienced - but he's also the proud owner of a wicked, _wicked_ tongue, which he'd used to the farthest reaches of his expertise until Dean was a writhing, blubbering mess. Dean'd said some truly embarrassing, downright _ridiculous_ things under the attention of that tongue, and while he's not sure he'll ever be able to look Cas in the eyes again, it seems like such a small price to pay.

So, Cas was uh-fucking-mazing, but Dean's pretty sure it's safe to assume he's still got a little bit of groove left in him, too, if the way Castiel came with a full body jolt and Dean's name on his lips was anything to go by. He'd nestled on top of Dean after that - still buried deep inside him - and pressed kisses to his shoulders and neck.

And yeah, maybe Dean had laced their fingers together and smiled into Cas' hair when Castiel didn't immediately pull out, but he'd just been ravished by a sex god, a lesser man wouldn't have even made it out alive.

While Dean was sure the thanks-for-the-great-sex-now-leave talk was inevitable, it never came. Instead, Castiel had wiped them both down with a warm washcloth and wrangled Dean underneath the fluffy down comforter, and that's where Dean is now, sunlight spilling into the room and all six feet of sixteen-year-old-Dean's dream boy’s back pressed up against Dean's chest.    

So they're spooning, and that's fan-fucking-tastic because Dean is touch-starved and falling fast, already a little addicted to the way Cas feels in his arms, but the warm fondness in his chest is downright terrifying. He's got a daughter at home, and a life he's carefully built around her - one that doesn't leave much room for anyone else right now - and Dean just knows he can't stay.

Not right now.

So he extracts himself carefully from the sheets, tucks the comforter around Cas, and tugs on his slacks and shirt. He's slipped out on countless other people after a romp in the sheets, but it's never felt quite like this. This feels personal - like Dean might be making the hugest fucking mistake in his entire life - and what he'd done with all of them, all the nameless, faceless somebodies, felt worlds different than what he'd done with Cas.

With his belt in hand, Dean stares down at Castiel for a long time, wonders if he should leave a note explaining himself, then decides a clean break is best. He bends to press his lips to the warm skin of Castiel's shoulder - a keepsake for the road - and wishes things were different, although what things he isn't exactly sure because there's no way in hell he'd change anything about his life with Jane now. Not a damn thing.

The other man stirs marginally, rolls his shoulders in his sleep, and it's tempting to climb back in bed with him, order breakfast when Cas wakes up, and talk all afternoon until they've grown to know each other, see if there's a possibility there. A possibility of something Dean hasn't had in a very long time, maybe ever.

Heaving a sigh, Dean steals one final glance then turns and pads out of the room, praying that Castiel will find it in his heart to forgive him.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean doesn't tell anyone about Cas.

Well, not outright anyway.

As soon as he's through the front door, Charlie is on him for details about his night, but he brushes her off with an elusive smile and whisks Jane into his arms, burying his face in the crook of her neck and breathing deep, reminding himself he's done the right thing for himself and for Jane.

Or at least he hopes he has.

Charlie bites her lip knowingly but doesn't prod. Though Dean's sure she's saving the grilling for later, he's grateful to her now for not saying anything. He needs some time to convince himself leaving Cas was the right thing to do before he'll be ready to talk.

"Do we need to do a poke?" Dean asks Jane, his fingers sliding into her soft curls as she rests her head on his shoulder.

"Nope," she says.

Dean glances at Charlie, eyebrows raised in question.

"We did it when she first woke up. She's fine, Dean."

And even though he can already see that, has his daughter in his arms, a tangible weight against his chest, every muscle in his body relaxes at actually hearing the words.

"Thanks, Bradbury," he mutters.

Charlie punches him lightly on the shoulder. "Anytime."

~

Normally, a dilemma like this would be something Dean would drink and fuck away. A few shots, a pretty face, and eventually his problem would dissipate enough for him to move on with his life. But since becoming a father, Dean's put his A+ coping skills to rest, and now he either has to deal with his shit like the well-adjusted adult he isn't, or fake it until he makes it.

Unfortunately, the learning curve on both is well beyond Dean's know-how, and some days the only thing keeping him afloat is Jane with her big green eyes - just like Dean's - and her effortless ability to love Dean despite all his hang-ups. He doesn't deserve her, but he's got her, and he's going to do whatever it takes to keep her the center of his universe. Even if that whatever includes walking away from someone who, in one night, made Dean feel more valued and _worth something_ than anyone else ever has.

And he doesn't want to feel like shit about it, but he does.

~

The week that follows the reunion is a slow one, giving Dean too much time to wonder, regret, and hate himself achingly for leaving Castiel. One-night-stands aren't supposed to feel like this, to linger on the mind for days afterward, leave you feeling heavy with the idea of never seeing that person again; but then, he had known from the get-go Castiel was more than a one-night-stand. He should have stopped himself before he'd even begun, but somewhere along the way, Dean had lost himself in wide blue eyes and a gentle smile he'd wanted to be the reason for for years.

~

"Hey." A hand on Dean's shoulder draws him from his thoughts, and he turns to find Sam frowning at him, concerned. He's still in his tie and slacks, which means he's just getting home from work, and when did it hit five o'clock already?

Dean skirts the look and glances back down at the rocking chair he's been mindlessly slaving finish over for the last ten minutes.

"Hey," he grunts back, a silent warning.

Sam's been hovering all week, staring Dean down with his huge Concerned Puppy Eyes, and it's starting to wear on Dean's nerves. He's fine, really.

"You know if you want to talk-" Sam begins.

Dean doesn't let him finish. "I don't wanna talk," he says. "Just like I didn't wanna talk yesterday, or the day before, or any other goddamn day you've asked me. Give it a rest, Sammy."

Sam's expression goes pinched, and Dean hates the way it makes his insides feel tight. He sighs, tosses his rag into a nearby bucket, and stands.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he says, scrubbing a hand over his face, defeated. "But, there's nothing to talk about, okay? I fucked something up. I'll get over it." Though seeing as how Dean's felt worse and worse as the week's gone by, he figures the _getting over it_ part isn't anywhere in his immediate future.

"Okay," Sam finally relents, but Dean can read the unspoken protest in the hard line of his brother's shoulders.

~

Despite being an asshole to him, Sam still asks Dean to stay for dinner. Jane's already helping Sarah set the table and seems pretty hell-bent on staying, so Dean washes up in the mudroom and follows Sam into the kitchen.

"Hi, Daddy." Jane beams from where Sarah's helping her set out knives and forks.

He smiles back at her. "Hey, Squirt. Were you a good girl for Sarah today?"

Jane looks up at Sarah with wide eyes and giggles when Sarah looks down at her with her face pulled into a silly expression and her dark hair falling in a curtain around Jane's face.

"She was a rock star," Sarah says, and as always, Dean feels a twinge of gratitude towards his sister-in-law. He'd always liked her anyway - a girl who can drink him under the table on any given occasion and takes absolutely zero of Sam Winchester's crap has always been good in his book - but eight months ago when Jane was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, sending Dean's whole world spinning off its axis, Sarah gracefully stepped in and held their little family together.

As a pediatric nurse, it was Sarah who first noticed the symptoms Jane was showing, and after Jane's diagnosis and Dean's literal break down in the doctor's office, it was Sarah who taught Dean how to track Jane's blood sugar levels and administer insulin when it was needed. And it was Sarah who was at Dean's apartment every night after that, sticking Jane with the needles Dean just could not fucking bring himself to stick her with and pretending not to see Dean wiping away tears through the whole process.

Jane cried less than Dean did in those first few months of her diagnosis, but Sarah never said a damn word about it. So yeah, Dean kinda considers Sarah an angel, and maybe she's way too good for Sam, but everyday, Dean's grateful his moose of a brother set his sights high when finding a wife and didn't settle for anyone but the best.

During dinner, Jane tells Sam and Dean all about her and Sarah's day while Sam hmmms and nods in all the right places. He might be a total doofus, but Jane's absolutely taken with him, so Dean supposes he'll keep the guy around for a few more years at least.

Mostly Dean just listens to the chatter, picking at his food and fantasizing about just how nicely Cas would fill the empty seat next to him had Dean not been such a monumental fuck up only a handful of days ago, and that depresses him. But then, he reminds himself, one-night-stands don't come to family dinners, and that _really_ depresses him. After the dishes are cleared, there's pie and ice cream, and then, Sarah's ushering them all out onto the back patio and pressing a beer into Dean's hand as he drops himself on the porch swing. At that point, life doesn't seem so bad.  

Sarah tucks herself up against Dean's side, grinning at Sam where he's trying to teach Jane how to do cartwheels on the lawn. Dean offers her his beer, but she smiles and declines.

"Did you know how big of a goon Sam is when you agreed to marry him?" Dean asks, laughing when Sam falls on his ass and Jane tackles him.

Sarah pushes off the deck, sending the swing into motion. She lets out a laugh of her own. "Yes," she admits, "but it was one of the things I loved about him so much."

"Guess it's better to be a goon than an asshole, huh?"

"I guess it depends on why you're being an asshole. If I know anything about you Winchesters, it's how protective you are of your own blood. Sometimes that takes a whole lot of assholery to achieve."

Dean's got the beer to his lips again, but he stops to balk at Sarah with one eyebrow raised. "Did you seriously just say assholery?"

"Deal with it, Winchester," Sarah says, shooting him a smile. Dean shakes his head and takes another swallow of beer. "I just mean, sometimes the two of you do things to the farthest extreme because you think you're doing the right thing, you think you're protecting your family. Sometimes that's okay, and other times it makes you look like an asshole."

It fucking sucks how right she is. "And protecting Jane? Does that make me an asshole, too?" Dean wonders.

"I wouldn't say it makes you an asshole, Dean, I'd say it makes you a father. Jane needs you to make the right decisions for her until she's old enough to do that on her own. You just need to make sure they really are the right decisions and not just your knee-jerk reaction to be the hero."

Dean scrubs a hand over his face, dinner churning in his stomach violently. It’s one thing to get attached to someone and not have them work out, and far another to have Jane get attached, too. Maybe Cas would've fit just fine into their lives, maybe he and Dean could have had something more than just one night in a swanky hotel. But, then what would happen when it was all over?

Sure, Dean's grown used to putting himself back together, but having to put Jane back together is something he's nowhere near ready to experience. So yeah, maybe it makes Dean totally and utterly selfish to keep it just the two of them, but he'll take the blame if it means keeping Jane's world as simple and free of heartache as possible.  

"Yeah," Dean finally says, finishing off his beer so he can occupy his mouth with something else other than spilling his guts to his sister-in-law. She accepts the silence with ease but takes Dean's hand in hers and offers him a squeeze.

~

"Alright, Winchester, spill it." Charlie thunks two six packs of beer on the coffee table and drops into the spot next to Dean on the couch. It has been the single longest week of Dean's entire life to date, and all he really wants to do is mope around in bed until he can get goddamn Castiel Novak the fuck out of his brain. But he can't say no to Charlie - though, even if he did, she'd do whatever the hell she wanted anyway - so when she had called and said she was coming over, Dean had surrendered and accepted his fate.

"Hello to you, too," Dean grumbles.

Charlie pulls a beer from the nearest pack and twists the top off, flicking it onto the table. She props her feet up and takes a pull before looking at Dean with an eyebrow quirked. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Well, you've been a hermit since you got home from that reunion," Charlie points out. "And you haven't even _looked_ at the beer yet _or_ made a rude comment about my T-shirt, which means something is definitely up. You're in a state."

"I'm not in a state," Dean counters, and just to prove his point, he glances over at her T-shirt, a grey number with a floppy disk on it and the words 'Byte me like it's 1984'. "Where did you get that? Nerds-R-Us?"

Charlie scoffs at him. "Weak," she mutters. She sits quietly sipping at her beer watching Dean for any signs of cooperation, but if she thinks he's going to tell her anything, she's got another thing coming.

Trying to fill the silence, Dean sits up and reaches for a beer. He's pulling one out when Charlie stops him, her hand on his.

"Those are for people who share."

"You're drinking one," Dean protests.

Charlie flashes him a shit eating grin - Dean _taught_ her that grin, the little jerk. "They're my beers, Dean. I'm sharing them with you. See how that works? Now it's your turn." She takes another swallow of beer, watching Dean over the bottle.

Dean slumps back against the couch. It's not like he actually wants one anyway.

The only sound in the room is the oscillating fan in the corner and the faint sound of Jane's white noise maker coming from her bedroom, which might be nice on any other night, but tonight it makes everything in Dean's head sound that much louder.

Charlie sighs. She pulls a beer from the pack and holds it out for Dean. He knew she'd give in first. "You met someone at the reunion. Hot or cold?"

"What?" His hand is on the beer now too, but Charlie won't let go.

"Am I hot or cold? Did you meet someone?"

Dean stares at her for a beat. He could answer that. He wouldn't actually be telling her anything. Right? "Lukewarm," he finally says. Charlie releases the bottle.

"I don't know what that means, but okay."

"It means I don't know how to answer. It's kinda true, but not all the way true."

Charlie's frowning at him now, biting her lip in thought. Epiphany sparks in her eyes. "You ran into someone you already knew."

"Hot," Dean says, "but really, Bradbury, it was a high school reunion. I knew everyone there. You're gonna have to step up your game."

"Shut up and drink your beer. I'm the one doing the interrogating here."

Dean does as he's told and waits for Charlie's next question, debating on how much he'll actually give her. It might be good to talk to her about it. But, it also might be good to just keep it to himself and work it out on his own. Because that’s been going swimmingly so far.

Without a word Charlie stands up from the couch, heading towards Dean's bedroom. "What are you doing?"

"You slept with someone." She shouts from his doorway.

Dean chugs half his beer before answering back. "Hot. And if you wake up my kid, I'm gonna kick your ass." He stands, trails Charlie, downing the other half of his beer. If Charlie's gonna sit and play 20 Questions, Dean at least deserves to be semi-drunk before he answers anything.

"Man or woman?" Charlie asks. She's in his closet now, digging through clothes and boxes.

Dean rounds back for another beer then leans on the door jamb, frowning at her. "What the hell are you doing?" he asks again.

Charlie looks up at him, blowing a few errant strands of hair out of her face. "I'm looking for something. Just answer the question. Man? Woman?"

"That's not a hot or cold answer," Dean points out. He opens his second beer and pockets the cap, taking a swig as he watches Charlie descend into Narnia at the back of his closet. She huffs at him.

"Fine. Was it a woman?"

"Nope."

"Okay, so it was a man."

Dean doesn't answer, taking another sip of beer instead.

"Dean."

"What?"

"Was it a man?" Her words are more pronounced the second time around like she has to dumb it down for him.

"Oh my god, Bradbury; I thought you were being rhetorical. Hot."  

Charlie emerges from the confines of Dean's closet with her prize in hand - Dean's high school yearbook. She flicks off the closet light and brushes past Dean, flipping through the pages on her way back to the living room.

"I should've known," Charlie babbles. "I know you're bisexual, Dean, but your affinity for men is sadly obvious. I think you just like the ladies for their boobs, which I can't say I blame you, but."

Dean frowns, following her. "I don't just like them for their boobs. And I do not have a sad affinity for men," he counters.

Charlie's nose is still in the book when they settle back into the couch. She's squinting at pictures, perusing each one carefully before moving on to the next. But she's looking at the freshmen.

"Cold," Dean offers. "That's my senior year, ya lightweight. And I do not just like women for their boobs."

"I heard you. But, I disagree with you. Really, Dean, there's no shame in that. Women's boobs are great, as well as a lot of other things, but the point is, you're more into women for sex."

Dean takes another hearty swallow of his beer. Semi-drunk is not coming fast enough. "Explain," he demands.

Charlie sighs and puts her finger as a placeholder in the yearbook. She looks at Dean. "When you talk to women you find attractive you're all cool and confident. Like you know all that's going to come out of it is one, maybe two, great nights of sex. You're not likely to get attached. But when you're talking to a man you find attractive, you're all blushy, and you stutter and make really terrible jokes, and you don't make eye contact. It's cute, really. But it's also like- you're afraid because there might be something more than just sex. Your confidence in 'sex only' is gone."

Dean opens his mouth to protest, but all that comes out is, " _Your_ confidence in 'sex only' is gone."

"You're cute when I'm right," Charlie retorts, going back to the yearbook.

Dean finishes another beer and cracks open a third.

"Victor Henrickson." Charlie looks at him, waiting.

"What?"

"Hot or cold? Was it Victor Henrickson?"

"No," Dean frowns. "But maybe it should have been." Victor was an attractive guy and pretty decent, too. He and Dean were amicable back in the day. Maybe if he'd slept with Victor, he wouldn't be having this dilemma. But then, he wouldn't have slept with Cas, and that just hurts in all the wrong places.

Charlie draws out her response, "Okayyyyy," her eyes scanning the page. "Will you give me a hint?"

"Nope."

"Fine." She goes back to the A's and starts naming off every guy she sees, which is fine with Dean, really. Cas' last name is Novak; maybe Dean can be properly drunk by then, and it won't matter whether Charlie figures it out or not. At least not tonight.

She goes through each letter, getting more and more irritated with Dean's response of 'cold' on everyone while Dean drinks more and more, his brain growing fuzzy and his limbs growing heavy. By the time she's reached the M's, Dean's smiling, staring at the ceiling.

"If you said cold when you should have said hot I will punch you in the face." Charlie's nearing the N's now if Dean's keeping his alphabet straight, and it's actually kind of fun listening to Charlie get riled up.

"Jane punches harder than you," Dean says, chuckling to himself.

Charlie ignores him, whispering names to herself before she finally lands smack dab in the middle of the N's. "Oh my god," she says, staring at the pictures there. "Oh my god."

"Oh your god what?"

"It was Castiel, wasn't it? I remember you talking about him all the time in college. Cas this, Cas that. Dean, _oh my god_."

Dean says nothing, carefully rolling an empty beer bottle between his fingers. He might be drunk, but hearing about Cas still hurts. Suddenly, Charlie's leaning over him, her green eyes boring into him.

"Did he turn you down? Is that why you're so mopey?"

Dean frowns at her. "Cold. I thought we already established I slept with someone."

"Did he have a disappointing penis?"

"I'm not talking to you about Cas' dick," he says. A mere handful of seconds pass before he continues. "It's totally awesome by the way. Zero disappointment." He waggles his eyebrows at Charlie. "Zero." Charlie blinks at him. He smiles again. "No really, best I've ever had."

"Okay, so cold."

Dean smirks. "Freezing cold. Arctic cold. _Pluto_ cold."

"Okay!" Charlie concedes. "I get it he has the pecker of an angel, can we move on?"

"More like a god," Dean quips. He can't help it. Okay maybe he can, but he doesn't want to.

Charlie sidesteps his retort. She fixes her gaze on him, eyes big and sad. "So you're in love with him."

"Cold." Because he can't be in love with someone he hardly knows, right? Technically, he and Cas have known each other for awhile now, but they don't really _know_ each other. Unless it's in the biblical sense, then yeah, they know each other pretty well, but that's the whole damn problem.

Charlie moves back into her own space, handing Dean another beer. He doesn't open it, just holds it, staring at the label. "Okay, game over. I guessed what and who now you have to tell me the rest."

He blinks at her.

"C'mon, Dean. It will make you feel better."

"Says who, Fart Face?" He delves into the story anyway because there's a weight on his chest he just can't carry alone anymore, and Charlie is there and asking and giving him free alcohol so why not?

"You left without even leaving a note?" Charlie asks when he's finished.

"What was I supposed to say? 'Thanks for the greatest sex of my life, but I have a kid so good riddance?'"

"Do you even know how he feels about kids? Or you?"

Dean rolls his head to look at Charlie. "Who's side are you on anyway?"

Charlie purses her lips in protest, but when she speaks, her words are filled with confidence. "Yours obviously."

"Okay then."

"But if I'm on your side, I say we try to fix this."

Dean groans. Meddling little nerd. He stands and grabs them a couple of water bottles from the kitchen, bringing with them a box of Ritz crackers and a block of cheese. "Mom always said bring a gift to the party," he quips, setting everything down.

Charlie smiles at him, reaching for her laptop. "Deactivating mope mode." She flips open the top and taps the mouse. A screen appears with an HD picture of Arwen stretched across its entire surface.

"What are you doing?" Dean asks. He takes a bite of cracker and cheese and slumps against Charlie's side, frowning at the search engine she has pulled up.

"Castiel can't be perfect, right?" Dean doesn't respond. Mostly because he can't agree with that, but also because it doesn't necessarily sound like Charlie wants an answer. "So, I'm going to dig up his dirt. We are going to find his imperfections and make him unlovable."

Dean shakes his head. "This sounds like a terrible plan."

~

Much to Charlie's dismay - and maybe a little of Dean's, too, hating Cas would probably feel better than missing him - what she does manage to find makes the whole situation even worse.

"He works on baby hearts," Dean sighs, scrolling through the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine's _Meet the Residents_ page. The picture of Cas was obviously taken during a shift. He's in charcoal scrubs, has a cat-patterned scrub cap on, and is smiling at the camera with his stupid beautiful eyes. He looks amazing. Goddamn perfect bastard, of _course_ he saves kids.  

"Well, this sucks," Dean mutters.

"He graduated top of his class." Charlie cocks an eyebrow at the screen, impressed.

"Told you he was a genius," Dean grumbles.

Charlie's quiet for a moment, lip held between her teeth and eyes scanning the screen. "Okay, but this might be good, Dean. He's a rich, stuck up doctor guy who lives in _Maryland_. Looks to me like you dodged a bullet."

And Dean almost wishes that were true. Again, hating the guy might be easier. "Look, I wish you were right, but Cas doesn't have a stuck up bone in his body. Unless we're talking about the one he stuck up my-"

"Dean." Charlie's voice is sharp, her face horrified.

Dean snickers at her, satisfied. "Seriously though. He didn't even tell me he's a doctor."

"Fine. But he lives in Maryland, Dean. He's states away. You couldn't even have a relationship if you wanted to. Well, not one with frequent sex anyway." She mutters the last part, but Dean's sitting right the fuck next to her; she knows he can hear her.

"I still don't see how that makes this any better. He operates on _baby_ hearts, Charlie. He saves fucking _babies_."

Charlie flips her laptop closed and opens another beer. She turns towards Dean, propping her leg on the couch and effectively kneeing Dean in the thigh.

"Okay, first of all, pediatric care is like, 0-18 years, it’s not just babies. And second of all, he doesn't do that yet. The site said he's _working towards_ cardiothoracic surgery in the pediatric department, so we can take a point away for that. And it's better because you can't have him anyway. It's not like he lives down the street and isn't returning your calls. He was here for the reunion and now he's back on the East coast. The actual probability of you ever seeing him again is like a million to one. Unless you were to track him down, and in that case, can I please come because I need to meet the dreamy doctor who tamed Dean Winchester in person."

"I'm not tracking him down," Dean hedges, like he hasn't spent the last handful of minutes wondering how much a plane ticket to Maryland would cost. You know, just in case he ever wanted to visit. He hears the weather's nice there. "And he didn't tame me. You can thank Jane for that."

"But?"

"But I think you're right, much as I hate to admit it. We had our thing, and now it's back to our normal lives. He's out there saving kids, and I'm raising one." And though he desperately wants them to, the words do nothing to ease his troubles.

Charlie pats his knee, nodding sympathetically. "I'm sorry you can't hate him," she says.

"Yeah," Dean says. "Me, too."


	3. Chapter 3

Another week passes in a similar fashion. Charlie meant well, but knowing Cas is really gone, off living his own life and maybe not even giving Dean a second thought, might sting even more than all the 'what-if's' Dean had conjured up in his mind.

By the time the weekend rolls around, Dean's in a foul mood and exhausted because of it. It's been nearly two hours since he put Jane to bed, and instead of getting some much-needed sleep, he's spent that entire time tossing and turning, desperate for comfort.

He feels guilty, and selfish, as he pads into Jane's room and carefully lifts her from her bed, grabbing her favorite blanket and stuffed monster, and carrying them all into his room, but she's his lifeline. The one piece to his puzzle that will always fit.

When he lays Jane down on the bed, she blinks at him, tugging her pacifier out and frowning. "Daddy?"

"Yeah, baby girl. It's alright. I just wanted to have a sleepover tonight. That okay?"

She pushes the pacifier back between her lips and nods, rolling to her side, waiting for Dean. When he climbs in beside her, Jane curls up against his chest, fisting her hand in his T-shirt and letting loose a big yawn.

"Sorry I woke you up," Dean whispers into her hair, but Jane is already out again, her nightgown riding up over her diapered bottom and the soft sounds of her sucking on her pacifier drifting into the room.

For the first time in two weeks, Dean feels like he can breathe. He may not have made the right decision for himself, but he's almost certain he made the right one for Jane.

Almost.

**~**

If Dean was looking forward to sleeping in on Saturday, he had another thing coming. Said thing manifests itself in the form of a tiny toddler, scrambling onto his chest at just after seven in the morning. She stares down at him until he blinks heavy-lidded eyes at her and groans.

"What time is it?" he asks, scrubbing a hand over his eyes before letting them fall shut again.

"Der's a seven, and a one, and a free," Jane garbles around her pacifier.

Dean lets out another groan. "Too early, baby doll."

"Bremember about da farmers martet?" Jane counters.

Dean peels one eye open, huffs a laugh and lightly pokes Jane's tummy over her nightgown. "Yeah, Janie, I remember. Farmer's Market."

Jane's grin deepens, and she nods, satisfied. "Yeah," she says.

Dean sits up, his hand on Jane’s back to help keep her upright with him, and rubs at his eyes again. "Okay, sweetheart. After your poke and a shower, okay?"

Jane nods. "Tay." She scrambles off his lap and disappears through the doorway, returning with her Toothless backpack slung over her shoulders and her arms wrapped around her iPad, holding it carefully against her chest.

Dean helps her back onto the bed and settles her in his lap, the familiar feeling of dread ebbing into his chest. Eight months they've been doing this, and it hasn't gotten any easier. No kid should have to go through being stuck six times a day, just to stay alive.

Jane seems unbothered, switching on her iPad and scrolling through her Netflix queue as Dean digs her lancing device and glucose meter out of her backpack and loads up a test strip. She presents him with a finger, already invested in _Backyardigans_ , and Dean makes quick work of swiping a sanitizing wipe over it and pricking the side, squeezing gently until blood dollops out of the site.

When Dean's satisfied Jane's numbers are good, and she's nestled into his bed with Netflix to keep her company, Dean takes a quick shower, foregoing a shave and throwing a hat on over his wet hair so Jane isn't kept waiting too long.

On their way out, Dean arranges for Sam and Sarah to meet them there, then enlists Jane to get Charlie to come along, too. It takes her most charming toddler voice and some serious sweet talking (which Dean will proudly admit was learned from him) before Charlie relents, but when she finally does, they arrange to pick her up within the half hour and then, they're on their way.

As Dean drives, windows down and Jane bobbing her head in time to the music in the back seat, Dean's determined to make it a good day.

**~**

Jane loves the farmer’s market; that's why Dean goes. Three years ago he'd never even considered going - fair trade junk was more Sam's kind of thing - but Jane loves the people, and the colors, and the fresh produce, and any chance she can talk Dean into taking her, they go.

And maybe the place has grown on Dean a bit, too. If nothing else, he enjoys watching Jane woo the vendors into giving her free samples and charming her way into discounts. She may be a kid, but the girl sure does know how to swindle - a fact that should probably give Dean cause to worry but instead makes him feel strangely proud.

"What are we on the hunt for today?" Charlie asks, taking hold of Jane's umbrella stroller and steering her away from the Impala. Dean stops her to sling Jane's diaper bag over the handlebars, and they're joined by Sam and Sarah.

"Bwackbewies," Jane says, "and appas. Gween ones."

Sam looks over the top of everyone to meet Dean's eyes, a dopey smile on his face, and a ridiculous pair of sunglasses perched on his nose like he's Matthew Fucking Mcconaughey or some crap. "You sure she's your kid, Dean?" he asks, which hardy har har. Dean may have spent more than half his life eating nothing but red meat and gas station food, but having a kid can change your outlook on life pretty damn quick. Especially one with a disease like Jane's.

"If she's not, I'm not giving her back," Dean replies. Jane looks up at him, smiles wide, and he winks at her as they wander towards the vendors.

They buy blackberries from a woman named Alice who smiles coyly at Charlie as she hands over the carton of fruit. Charlie smirks at her and instead of handing the poor woman money, she offers her phone number.

"Pretty sure that's not gonna put food on her table, Bradbury," Dean ribs, handing Alice some cash and giving the carton to Jane. She opens it eagerly, yanks her binky out and pops a couple into her mouth, smacking her lips around the tart fruit.

"Way to harsh my vibe," Charlie hedges, punching Dean in the shoulder as they wander away from Alice's stand and over to a man who's selling an array of different species of apples.

They let Jane pick out the ones she wants and end up leaving with not one, but two bags full of the fruit. "One bag for Lady Jane and one bag for daddy's pie," Dean tells Jane as he loads his bag into the bottom of her stroller.

After that, they wander aimlessly for a while, stopping to pet one vendor's goats, and again to get a free sample of frozen yogurt.

"Oh hey," Sam says when Sarah stops to buy fresh flowers from a vendor named Joshua. "I wanted to get some honey before we leave. Kevin said to find the new _Heavenly Honey_ stand. I guess he's got all sorts of flavors."

Dean snickers. "Yeah, okay, Samantha," he agrees. "Let's go find the honey guy."

"Jerk," Sam grumbles, but he leads the way through the crowd, his massive body parting customers like the Red Sea.

There's a flock of people around the new stand, but it thins quickly. Soon Jane's eyes are widening at all the jars of honey, and Sam looks like it's Christmas morning come early.

The man is tying a label around one of the jars when they approach him, but when he looks up, Dean's heart plummets to his stomach.

It's Castiel.   

His eyes fly wide when he sees Dean, hands falling idle. "Oh." And it's really more an enunciated punch of air than a word, Castiel wincing as he says it.

Dean shifts on his feet, nervously adjusts the bill of his baseball cap, blatantly ignoring Charlie's sharp nudge to his ribs with her elbow. "Hey, Cas."

For a beat no one speaks, Dean staring at Castiel who's staring back very much like a deer caught in the headlights, and then Sam is sucking in a gasp.

 _"Castiel?"_ he asks, and Dean’s almost surprised Sam remembers the guy. Sam was only a freshman when he’d attended school with them.

Castiel blinks, turns his attention to Sam. "Yes, it's me," he says, reaching out to accept Sam's mammoth paw for a brief shake. "You've certainly grown, Sam, I always knew you'd outgrow your brother."

It comes off as a lighthearted jab, and while Dean definitely feels like a jackass for doing what he did, he wonders if maybe Castiel isn't as beat up by what transpired as Dean's been. Who knows if Cas had even wanted him to stick around anyway? And he’s a doctor in fucking _Maryland_ (...right?). So what the hell's he doing selling honey in Kansas?

Dean watches as Sammy practically beams under Castiel's attention, nodding happily. "A long time ago," Sam says, and Castiel offers him a polite smile.

"I'm still the better-looking Winchester though," Dean offers, shooting Sam a cheeky grin. Sam rolls his eyes, Castiel swallows hard.

Sam introduces Sarah, and after she and Castiel have exchanged pleasantries, Sam asks the question Dean's been dying to know himself.

"So what're you doing here, Cas?"

For all the information he and Castiel had shared about themselves, the more intricate details of their lives had never come up. Probably because they had spent more time with their tongues down each other's throats, but also maybe they had _both_ been playing things close to their chests. Dean hadn't wanted to bring up Jane, not when he knew he was just going to leave, but why would Castiel omit information, too?

Castiel's eyes flick to Dean's, an apology maybe? But then, his expression is too weary for an apology, and Dean realizes maybe Cas _would_ have told him, had he stuck around.

So maybe Castiel is more hurt than Dean originally thought.

With that knowledge, Dean tries to say with his eyes what his mouth can't due to their audience. _I'm sorry. I wanted to stay. It's just so complicated._ But, Castiel doesn't seem to get the message. Either that or it's too late to be heard because his eyes are sliding back to Sam's, leaving Dean feeling empty.

"I just moved back to the area not too long ago," Castiel responds, "quite close to here, actually. After being gone for so long, I felt it was finally time to come home."

"And now you sell honey." Sam's eyes rove over the stand approvingly, and Castiel nods.

"For now. I'll be starting my first year as a cardiothoracic fellow here in a few weeks. This is just a hobby."

Sarah's face brightens. "At KU?" she asks.

"Pediatric care," Cas says with a nod.

Sarah flashes him a wide smile. "I'm a peds nurse there. I'm sure I'll be seeing quite a bit of you."

"What are the odds?" Sam looks about as overjoyed as can be which is ironic because Dean feels a deep, swirling sadness. Cas never went back to Maryland, he's been here the whole time, and Dean chose to walk away.

Castiel nods, says, "It _is_ a small world," managing a short glance in Dean's direction.

Dean wants to say something, should say something, but instead, he just stands and stares, acutely aware of Cas' dark lashes falling on his cheek as he blinks, and the deep, throbbing stone sinking in his own stomach. _goddamnit_.

It is at this moment that Jane decides to speak up, tugging on Dean's pant leg from where she sits in her stroller and looking up at him with imploring eyes. Dean's stomach clenches. Had he known Jane and Castiel would meet when he left the house this morning, he might not have left at all. But now here they are, and there's nothing Dean can do to stop it.

"Daddy," Jane says, "tan I dit honey?"

Dean watches Castiel glance at Jane, then at Charlie, then back at Dean. Something in his mind slots into place and all the color drains from his face as he blinks at Dean in horror.

Dean feels cold all over. _Fuck_.

Dean looks down at his daughter then, unable to maintain eye contact with Castiel any longer. "Sure, kiddo," he responds because what else is there to say? Cas has put all the pieces together now, and he's horrified just like Dean feared he'd be.

Jane grins up at him, clutching at the bag of green apples on her lap, and Dean looks back to Castiel. "So I guess we need some honey," Dean says almost breathlessly, because this is just like a nightmare come true.

Castiel is quiet for a moment, still staring at Dean, and then he's moving around his stand and coming to crouch in front of Jane's stroller.

"Hello there, bug," he says gently. Jane blinks at him shyly for a beat before responding.

"Hewo."

Cas smiles wide at her, poking a finger at her pacifier with a silent _boop_. Jane giggles at him, full-bellied and beautiful, and Dean nearly has a heart attack. Stupid perfect fucker who saves babies, and makes his daughter laugh within two seconds of meeting her. Dean officially hates him.

"What's your name?"

"Mawy Jane Winchesser." She says each name with pronounced pride. "But you tan jus' say da Jane pawt."

Cas laughs softly at her. "Jane my name is Castiel - but you can just say the 'Cas' part."

Jane smiles like she's just made a new best friend. "Tas," she repeats. It’s not right but it's the best Cas is gonna get around her damn binky, and Dean goes to tell him as much, but Castiel nods in understanding.

"You got it, angel."

Jane fucking beams at him, lips stretched wide, dimples forming in her round little cheeks. She looks up at Dean, whispering, "Daddy, he sayed I a angel."

"How did he figure out your secret?" Dean asks conspiratorially. Jane smiles at him and looks back to Castiel.

"Jane, have you ever had honey that tastes like cinnamon?" he asks.

Jane tugs her binky out of her mouth. She bites her lip, hiding a smile, and shakes her head.

"I believe it would go quite well with the apples you have here," Castiel explains, tapping the bag that rests on Jane's lap. Janie looks down at the apples then back up to Castiel, and Dean's heart beats nervously in his chest.

"Otay," Jane agrees, popping her binky back in her mouth. She looks to Dean for guidance. "Tan we det da cimanin kind, Daddy?"

"Of course, baby girl."

Jane locks her gaze on Castiel's. "My daddy sayed it’s otay," she says.

Castiel smiles at her, easy and light, and Jane returns the gesture around her pacifier, glancing up at Dean with glittering eyes.

She approves.

And even though Dean's probably ruined any chance he had with the guy in the first place, something leaps excitedly within him knowing Jane could like Castiel just as much as he does.

 _Goddamnit, what have I done_ , he wonders for the millionth time.

After that Sam rambles off an order as well, basically asking for the left side of the menu, and while Castiel accepts it easily, pulls jars from stacks with practiced ease, Dean can feel the tension building in the other man, can see it in his shoulders and the hard line of hurt and confusion in his eyes.

Whether whatever happened between them is salvageable or not, Dean at least owes the guy an explanation.

"Hey, you know what?" Dean says looking at Sam. "I got this. You guys can uh, go- somewhere," he finishes lamely.

Sam frowns at him, his mouth quirking to the side, but nods. "Okay, Dean."

"You too, Charlie," Dean says, "I'll meet up in a second."

"Yeah, whatever," Charlie counters. "I think we need more blackberries anyway."

Jane waves at Cas. "Bye, Tas!"

"Goodbye, Jane. It was wonderful to meet you," Castiel says, winking at her as Charlie maneuvers the stroller towards the walkway. She follows Sam and Sarah away from the stand but turns back to shoot a knowing glance in Castiel's direction and mouths _he's so dreamy_ at Dean. Dean shakes his head, and then Charlie is gone, and he and Castiel are alone.

"Tell me you aren't married," Castiel hisses immediately as he watches Charlie go. For a minute Dean's confused, but then he understands and actually laughs out loud at the thought.

"I'm not married," he assures Castiel. "That's Charlie, my friend. My very gay, totally into ladies, lesbian _friend_.

Castiel relaxes after that, his shoulders not so bunched and his frown not so deep, but there's still a tension curling around the two of them that Dean fucking hates.

"It's just me and the kid," Dean goes on to explain quietly, subdued, "and that's mostly why I left."

Something like understanding flickers in Castiel's eyes and the rest of the tension leaves him. "Oh," he says deflating. "I assumed you didn't introduce her because she's your wife, and you didn't-" he trails off at the shaking of Dean's head.

"No," Dean says, "very much no. I didn't introduce her because I'm an asshole, and I was still freaking out over seeing you again when I never thought I would. Aren't you supposed to be saving babies in Maryland?"

"Is that what you wanted, Dean?" Castiel asks, ignoring Dean's question. "To never see me again?"

"No," Dean answers honestly, "it killed me to walk away."

"Then why did you?" Castiel is handing him a bag full of Sam's things and the honey for Jane.

Dean accepts it and wishes he had a better answer for Castiel than _I thought I knew but I don't,_ but he doesn't so he says nothing.

Castiel quirks a brow at him, expectant, and Dean sighs, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. "Listen, let me buy you a drink or something, okay? I'll tell you whatever you want to know. I'm not saying it'll make me seem like any less crappy of a guy, but at least we'll have given it a fair shot."

For a moment Castiel doesn't respond. He nibbles at the inside of his lip, eyes probing. "You'll tell me whatever I want to know?" he asks.

While Dean panics at the thought of spilling his guts to the guy, it'd be a pretty dick move to offer it in one breath and then relinquish it in the next. "I might need a few shots first, but yeah. Whatever you want to know."

"Alright," Cas finally agrees albeit reluctantly, but really, Dean can't blame the guy.

Dean nods, smiles even, relieved. "Thanks, Cas."

Castiel waves him off. "Don't thank me just yet, Winchester. I agreed to a drink, not to forgive you. Now pay me and go be with your family. I'll see you later."

Dean hands over a wad of cash - accepting Cas' phone number in return - and can't help the butterflies he feels in his stomach as he walks away.

This may not be a second chance, but it kinda feels like one and if it is, he's not going to screw it up this time.


	4. Chapter 4

"You're sure you're okay to hang here for awhile? I can cancel, it's not a big deal." Dean feels fidgety, staring at himself in the mirror wondering if he's dressed appropriately for apology-drinks with the first person he's had sex with in... well, the number of years is just too sad to think about, really. And anyway, since when does it matter what he wears regardless of where he's going?

 _But this is Cas_ , he can't help but think, and isn't that just the damn cherry on top of the whole fucking sundae?

Charlie doesn't look at him to reply, her nose buried in his stupid yearbooks again. "Jane's already in bed, Dean. You did all the work. All I'm gonna do is eat all your food and watch crappy T.V. However, I'd be even more okay than I already am if I knew who you were going out with."

Dean's not really sure why he isn't telling her. It's not like anything's going to happen after tonight; he and Cas are going to go and get drinks, Dean's going to give Cas his sob story, Cas is going to act appropriately sympathetic and then politely put an end to the night, and they'll never hear from one another again. Easy as that.

Though, he and Jane will have to find a different farmer's market. And they won't be able to chance visiting Sarah at work anymore. In fact, maybe they'll have to avoid that part of town entirely now.

So yeah. He'll have to make a few minor adjustments to his life, but he can deal with that.

Not telling Charlie is just, well, it's none of her goddamn business, that's what.

"An old friend," Dean mutters grimly, wondering if his T-shirt is too casual, or if putting on a nicer pair of jeans would be too overdressed.

Charlie's in the bathroom doorway now, leaning on the frame. "So you're going on a date with an old friend," she muses, "would that be the same old friend who _doesn't_ live in Maryland that we just so happened to run into at the farmer's market today?"

Dean squirts a blob of toothpaste on his toothbrush and works up a hearty froth.

"The same old friend who saves babies? That old friend, Dean? Because I don't know about you, but it feels to me a little bit like fate has had her hand in this."

Dean scoffs at the battered book Charlie's thumbing through. She stops to chuckle at a photo of Sam - dressed in an awful yellow polo Dean had tried to talk him out of - giving his ninth-grade election speech when he ran for Men's Rep. Dean smiles at the memory. The pipsqueak had been riddled with nerves, but he'd nailed the speech and won the election just like Dean had told him he would. "First of all, you're a dirty snoop. Second of all, it's not a date; it's just... unfinished business."

"Right. So by unfinished business, you mean screwing each other's brains out again?"

"I'm not screwing anybody's anything anywhere, I told you it's just-"

"Unfinished business, I know. But really, Dean, why not give this a shot? He's obviously into you - or he was, heh - and you've been a mess since you left him. Why don't you just let yourself have this?"

Dean sighs but says nothing. He leaves Charlie standing in the bathroom and digs a pair of boots out of his closet, lacing them quickly and shrugging into a plaid shirt. "First thing tomorrow I'm finding myself a new best friend," he says. "One that isn't a meddling nerd."

Charlie falls onto his bed, slowly flicking through the pages and ignoring Dean almost completely. "You love me," she says.

And yeah. He kinda really does.

~

That evening finds Dean seated in an overstuffed armchair tucked in the corner of the Bean Scene, a coffee joint widely known for its sugary confections and fancy original-recipe-lattes. It's not exactly what Dean had in mind, but it's where Cas wanted to go, so Dean didn't feel it was within his rights to protest.

The place may be a bit overdone, but at least it's too trendy to be loaded with hipsters.

Cas is seated in the chair next to him, chatting amiably with the barista who's brought their drinks, a sandy-haired man with a pointed face and a wicked smile. Dean doesn't trust the guy, but Castiel doesn't seem to mirror Dean's opinion.

"Thank you, Gabriel," Dean catches him say, and then the barista, Gabriel, is winking at Dean and turning to leave.

"You two know each other?" Dean asks when Gabriel is out of earshot.

"He's my uncle," Castiel says. "This is his establishment."

Dean nods, understanding. "I wondered what the hell we were doing here."

Castiel shifts in his chair, settling in. "I feel comfortable here," he explains.

He looks comfortable, eyes bright and open, hair a little messy from the breeze outside, and for a moment Dean's back in that hotel room, fingers sliding over naked skin and inhaling the scent of cinnamon. Castiel had seemed comfortable then, too. And Dean had basically taken advantage of that by walking away.

He looks down at the cup in his hands. Even if Cas is willing to forgive him, Dean's not sure he's worthy of it.

"So you have a child," Castiel states, no preamble, and maybe it's best to get right to the point anyway.

"Yeah," Dean confirms. He can't help the smile that quirks at his lips as he thinks about his daughter. "Her name is Mary Jane, uh-" he rubs a hand over the back of his neck and blinks sheepishly at his drink. "Mary after my mom, and Jane after the Stones song."

Castiel's eyes go soft. "That's a beautiful name," he says. "Though I've never heard the song."

For a moment, Dean feels a tiny bit proud before it's promptly squashed by the slight feeling of good-natured disappointment. He remembers Cas being pretty oblivious to pop culture back in high school; it appears the trait has carried on even into his adult years. "We need to get you cultured," Dean says.

"I know music, Dean," Castiel counters, "just not 'your' music."

Dean smirks. "Like I said, you need some culture."

Castiel rolls his eyes. "I've seen thirteen countries and four continents, Dean; I'm fluent in French and Italian. I hardly think _I_ lack culture."

"Okay, maybe not," Dean concedes, "but you _are_ a smart ass."

Castiel smiles at him now, a shit-eating grin if Dean's ever seen one, and it might be the first time Dean's ever seen him smile like that. It sends butterflies flapping emphatically in his stomach.

An easy silence passes between them, eyes locked and both of them smiling, and for a minute it doesn't feel like there's air to be cleared, mistakes to be forgiven. For a minute, it feels like Dean never walked out of that hotel room.

Dean bows his head for a beat, then looks up to find Cas still smiling at him. It's softened now, just a slight upturn at the edges of his mouth, but it's warm, and never again does Dean want to be the reason for making that smile disappear.

"Tell me about Jane," Castiel requests.

And Dean wants to tell him everything, to hear everything, and for things to be okay between them, maybe even ask for another chance to see if they could- But then this feels too easy - to sit here and talk about Jane - and Dean feels unable to relax, waiting for the other shoe to drop and land right on his head.

"Why the fuck are you being so nice?" Dean blurts because it doesn't make any sense. Castiel had looked wrecked at the farmer's market, rightfully so. He should hate Dean by now, but instead, they're here with coffee, and it feels so damn easy. It can't be that easy, right?

Castiel sighs and shifts in his seat, looking contemplative and tentative like he might not even be sure himself. "I will admit, when I woke up to find you gone, I was disappointed but not surprised. I knew your reputation in high school, Dean. I heard about every single one of your conquests. And I had told myself, going into it, that I needed to be prepared to be just another conquest. I was actually surprised you even stayed the night if I'm being perfectly frank.

"So yes, I did dare to hope, but when I woke up and you were gone," Castiel shrugs, trailing his finger along the edge of his cup. "But after this morning, I see things differently. You seemed genuinely regretful for what you did, and that's something I didn't expect. It caught me off guard. And then there's Jane." Castiel pauses, smiling at Dean, and maybe it _can_ be this easy. Maybe if Dean would just fucking let go of his insecurities and trust someone for one goddamn second, a lot of things in life could be this easy.

"I guess," Cas continues, "I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, possibly for selfish reasons, but you really shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, Dean."

Dean nods, doubts swirling around in his brain that he vehemently attempts to dismiss. "Okay," he says, unable to produce anything else.

"Now," Castiel says, "if it's alright with you, I'd like to hear about Jane. She's a beautiful little girl, Dean."

Dean's face cracks open with a smile, and he scrubs a hand over his mouth. "Thanks, man." And then he launches into every detail there is to know about Jane; he tells Cas that she's almost three, end of next month, but that it feels like she’s going on twenty, talks all about her diabetes, how she's still attached to her damn pacifier even at nearly three years old, how she's the best fucking kid in the whole entire world, and how terrified he is of her growing up. For a minute he forgets why he's telling Cas all of this and just lets himself ramble, like they're just two people getting to know each other. It feels good to talk to Castiel this way, to share Jane with him in a way that feels safe for Dean.

"And that's why you left? Because of Jane?" Castiel wonders when Dean finishes. His voice sounds neutral, but Dean can't tell if it's to protect himself or if he's being sincere.

"Yeah," Dean says quietly, tapping his fingers on the small table between their chairs. "That's why I left."

Castiel reaches out and covers Dean's hand with one of his own. "Why didn't you just tell me?" His eyes are soft, but Dean can still see the hurt lurking just behind that softness. It's a fair question, Dean's just not sure he can articulate a fair enough answer.

Dean sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face again, the hand Castiel was just trying to hold, the hand Dean pulled away because he's a giant fucking chickenshit. "Since day one it's always been just me and Jane and I didn't- I don't know how to bring someone else into that."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's a lot. Me, owning my own business, Jane and her diabetes. I don't know how to make time for anything else or expect anyone to just jump on board with our crazy life. She's everything, Cas. How do I figure someone else into that equation without worrying about this kind of crap?"

Castiel nods his understanding.  

"And what if Jane gets attached and then things don't work out? I can't stand the idea of her getting hurt because of me. And being with you that night, it felt-" Dean looks down at his jeans, swallowing around a lump in his throat. So much for things being easy. He and Cas haven't even spent 24 hours together and Dean's making a mountain out of what could very likely be nothing but a molehill. "It didn't feel like a one-time deal, you know? It felt like something could happen, down the road. I was so fucking terrified I didn't know what else to do but to leave."

"But you didn't want to," Castiel points out.

"It might be the biggest mistake I've ever made," Dean admits. "I don't think I can even tell you how sorry I am. But seeing you at the farmer's market it almost felt like-"

"A second chance?" Castiel asks.

Dean's smile is small as he shrugs his shoulders. "All of my reasons for leaving still stand, but I dunno. Maybe."

Castiel nods. He's quiet for a moment, and Dean feels desperate to know what he has to say about this mess. "Are you finished with that?"

Dean looks down at his drink, frowning. "Uh, yeah. I guess." He hands it over to Castiel and watches as Castiel stands to throw their cups away. When he returns, he doesn't sit back down.

So, it's over. Dean's said what he came to say, and now's the part where Cas politely ends the night and never contacts Dean again. But Cas is still standing there, looking down at Dean expectantly, and Dean's got no idea what the hell is going on.

"Are we done?" Dean asks.

"With coffee, yes. But, I believe you promised me a real drink. I'd like to take you up on that now."

"Oh. Uh, yeah," Dean says as he stands, unable to hide his smile. "Yeah. Let's get out of here."

~

They meet at Shurley's, a locally owned bar just down the street from the Bean Scene. Where Cas felt comfortable in the coffee shop, the bar is more Dean's speed. Cas looks a little out of place in the joint with his cardigan and pink button-down, but he stands dutifully at Dean's side looking like he doesn't give a shit whether he looks out of place or not.  

"Hey, Dean. Long time no see! Who's Prince Charming?"

Dean's stomach flips as Becky eyes Castiel with a coy smile and fluttering lashes. He winces a smile at Cas. It's meant to be apologetic, but it probably lands somewhere between uncomfortable or gassy instead. Becky's emphatic smile, on the other hand, doesn't falter. "Becky, this is my friend, Cas. Cas, Becky. She's been the host here for how many years now?"

Becky shrugs and sticks out a hand. "Nice to meet you Dean's- _friend-_ Cas." Castiel shakes it with a nod of his head, ignoring the emphasis Becky puts on 'friend'.

"And you as well, Becky-the-hostess."

Becky lets out a shrill giggle, and Castiel just blinks at her, like he's not sure what the appropriate reaction to her laugh would be.

"Okay!" Dean says, grabbing Becky's attention. "I think we're gonna go now. Is the bar okay, Cas?" He doesn't wait for an answer, grabbing a couple of menus from Becky's host stand and guiding Cas carefully away from Becky's starry eyes with a hand placed lower on Castiel's back than is probably necessary.

"I'm right here if you need anything!" she shouts after them.

Dean waves a hand in the air and pushes Cas towards the bar.

"She's... energetic," Castiel remarks as they settle onto their barstools.

Dean has to twist to see him properly - watching Castiel fold his long fingers over one another on the bar top - and instantly he wishes he'd gotten them a table. He's going to have a kink in his neck by the end of the night if he keeps on gawking at Cas like this. "I'll drink to that," he mutters, and Castiel's lips curve into a smile as he waves down a bartender.

Of course, it's Benny who saunters up to help them. Benny with his barrel chest and arms bulging from his tight black sleeves. Benny who drawls, "Hey there, stranger," when he sees Dean.

And of course, Dean has the fucking nerve to flush from his cheeks all the way down to his neck. He hasn't heard that southern twang in awhile.

"Hey, Benny."

A quick glance at Castiel tells Dean he's missing the whole thing, eyes carefully trained on the menu, and for once, Dean is grateful Castiel Novak is oblivious to him. Dean looks back at Benny and shoots him a pleading look, his eyes darting back and forth between Cas and Benny.

Benny's a good guy, a great guy actually - one of the best - but he's also the same guy Dean hooked up with his first few years out of high school, having blue-balled his way through his teenage years drooling over Cas he'd had a lot of sexual frustration to conquer as an early twenty-something. And even though that's all very much in the past, Benny does rib Dean about it every now and then. Tonight, Dean's silently begging Benny not to make now one of those moments.

He's here with Cas, wants to be here with Cas - like he's never wanted to be anywhere with anyone before - and he's not going to open the door for anything - or anyone - to fuck things up.

Again.

No, if anything is going to be fucked up, Dean will do that all on his own, thank you very much.

Benny nods, chuckling and a breath of relief rushes from Dean's lungs.

"What can I get you boys tonight?" Benny asks, resting his hands on the bar top.

"I think it's time for some shots," Dean says. He smiles widely at Benny. "How 'bout you surprise us. Unless you have a preference, Cas?"

Cas looks up from his menu then, folding it and saying, "Just a Sam Adams for me, please."

Dean gapes at him, even snorts a little. Castiel looks at him, blinks. "What?" he asks.

"Just a beer? I don't think so, buddy." Dean looks back to Benny. "Make that two tequilas, and no on the beer."

"I don't need tequila," Castiel counters. "You're the one who said you'd tell me whatever I wanted to know after a few shots."

Dean nods. "I did. And I stand by that. But I have a few things I wanna know, too. You weren't exactly an open book yourself, _doctor_."

Castiel frowns, looks down at his menu and traces the edges with his fingers. Dean can't tell if the guy is nervous or upset.

"I'm not sure tequila and you are such a wise mix," he mumbles. He looks up at Dean, eyes wide and, yeah, that's definitely nerves. Dean quirks a smile at him, reaches across the bar and tugs the menu from his hands.

"Make that two rounds of tequila for the both of us," Dean says, smiling even wider at Castiel's exasperated sigh.

"Sure thing, brother," Benny drawls, winking at Dean. "Anything else?"

Dean looks at Castiel, eyebrow raised in question. Castiel leans in close to Dean, probably trying to make his response more private. "Dean, I can't promise I can be trusted to keep my hands to myself."

Dean looks back at Benny and gulps. "Yeah," he says, "we're gonna need a booth. Preferably somewhere out of the way."

~

They're led to a quiet booth in the corner. The table is round, the cushioned bench one long curved piece that really only gives them the option of sitting either a bit too far away from one another, or a bit too close. Dean slides in first, leaving that decision solely up to Cas. He's not a goon though, not like Sammy, he's just being polite. Really. Castiel doesn't miss a beat, sliding in next to Dean until their hips bump. "Scootch," Cas mutters. Dean does, but only marginally.

When the shots come, Castiel raises a hand before Dean can drink. "I apologize in advance for whatever happens in the next several hours. I request not to be held too accountable for my actions or judged too harshly for whatever completely ridiculous things I may say. Do you accept the terms?" he asks.

Dean chuckles. "I don't know what you're all wound up for, Cas. It's just a couple of shots."

Castiel sighs, pressing both hands against the table top. He has nice hands. Fingers long, slender. Well kept. Surgeon's hands. Baby fixing surgeon's hands. They look soft. _They are soft._ Dean reminds himself because those hands have been all over his body. All over, and inside- Castiel clears his throat and that's when Dean realizes he's staring. Dean's eyes shoot up to meet Cas', and he offers him a sheepish grin. "I just don't want to give you the impression that anything was premeditated," Castiel explains.

"Hey, I have no expectations, alright? And I didn't think you did either. The only thing I was hoping to get out of this night was forgiveness. Anything else that may or may not happen in our drunken stupor is really just an added bonus."

"Dean, do you accept the terms?" Castiel repeats with a shake of his head, and holy fuck he's completely serious.

"I do," Dean finally says. "And uh, me too. Y' know with the terms thing."

Castiel's smiling now, raising his glass in the air. "Agreed," he says, then his tongue flicks out to swipe the salt off his hand, and the shot is gone within seconds. He closes his eyes as the liquid goes down and puts a lime wedge between his lips.

Dean swallows down his tequila with a hard gulp, wondering what in the hell he just got himself into.

~

At Castiel's request, they stop after three and order food.

"Wow, Cas. All that buildup and no follow through? What was the filibuster for if we're not even drinking?"

Castiel doesn't look at Dean when he responds, voice flat over the menu. "Relax, Winchester. We will drink," he counters, "but I'd like to have a conversation with you first. Getting me drunk is not going to get you out of that." His eyes flick to Dean's then, and Dean nods.

"You're right," Dean agrees. "You got questions. Let's hear 'em."

"Where is Jane's mother?"

Dean looks down, smiling at the table top and shaking his head. "Wow. Right off the bat, huh?"

"You're right. Perhaps I should have started with something simpler." Castiel pauses, thinking. "Oh, yes. Were the rumors about you and Rhonda Hurley really true? Did you wear her panties?"

Dean chokes on the water he was trying to swallow when Cas went and fucking brought up Rhonda Hurley. And her panties.

" _That's_ what you want to know?" he spits, dabbing his face with a napkin.

Cas nods, face completely void of any signs he might be joking. "For about fifteen years now."

"Goddamn, Cas. You've really thought about this haven't you?"

Castiel doesn't respond, just continues staring at Dean, and staring, and staring.

"Yes, _Data_ ," Dean admits, laughing at his own Star Trek reference even though he knows it goes right over Cas' head. "The rumors were true."

The only change in Cas' face is the color flooding his cheeks. "And you liked it?" he asks, voice cracking a little.

Dean nods, winking at Castiel. "A lot," he says.

Castiel shifts next to him, putting his hands in his lap, then back on the table, then right back into his lap again. "I see," he says, not quite meeting Dean's eyes. Maybe it's wrong of Dean to be taking personal delight in the way Cas is squirming right now, but he gives absolutely zero fucks. Absolutely zero.

"So," Dean says loudly, making Cas jump. "You want to know about Jane's mom, huh?"

"Not if you're uncomfortable sharing it with me."

"Hey, I said whatever you wanted to know, didn't I? If that's what you want to know, I'll tell you. But it's pretty boring."

When it's clear Castiel's waiting, Dean drums his knuckles on the table before starting. He hasn't talked to anyone about this since Jane was born. Hell, he hasn't even thought about it. Telling the story now, almost three years later, feels a little like he's sharing a memory from someone else's life.

"Jane's mom's name is Abby. We met at a bar, hooked up without a rubber, next thing I know, Abby's telling me she's knocked up. She stressed how much she didn't want the kid - wasn't gonna be good for her political career or whatever, and despite how much I supported her making the final decision, I guess she could tell how much I wanted that baby. So we agreed I'd take care of all the finances, and once the baby was born, Abby was free to leave. And that's what she did - never even looked at Jane. We signed the papers right there in the delivery room, some of 'em saying if I ever told anyone about it I'd be blah, blah, blah, and Abby was gone the next day. I'm still surprised she even went through with it."

Castiel frowns. "I'm sorry it didn't work out between the two of you," he says.

"Wasn't anything to work out. It was a hook-up gone wrong, which I shoulda seen coming from the start. Fucking politicians. But I wasn't trying to get her pregnant; it just happened. I sure as hell wasn't looking to settle down with a kid."

"But you did anyway," Cas points out, like Dean's some kind of saint.

"She's my kid," Dean says, shrugging. "Didn’t even know I wanted her until I knew she existed. But she's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Cas is smiling now, more with his eyes than anything else, but Dean can see it, can feel it. "Fatherhood suits you well," Castiel says, and Dean's heart swells until it's the size of the fucking sun.

"Thanks," he mutters.

When their food comes, an array of appetizers they agreed to share, Castiel takes the liberty of ordering them more drinks.

"Thought you wanted to have a conversation," Dean says, jabbing Castiel in the ribs with a finger.

Cas smiles a little as he swats Dean's hand away. "Stop that; of course I do. I just want to be ready when that conversation is over."

"Uh huh."

"What's up with you and the bartender?" Castiel asks, dipping half a chicken strip into a ramekin of ranch dressing. "He seemed to know you quite well."

"So you did notice."

"Of course I noticed. I'm a surgeon. It's my job to pay attention to even the minutest of details." Castiel replies, "So?"

"Benny and I had a thing a while back. A long while back. _Long_ while, Cas."

"You certainly get around, don't you." Cas is smirking at him now. Dean pulls a fry from their shared basket and tosses it at Cas' face. He only misses by a few inches, but he wasn't trying that hard to hit him anyway.

" _Did_ ," Dean corrects, snatching the other half of Cas' chicken strip and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. "I did get around," he says around the mouthful of food. "I don't do that anymore. In fact, you're the first person I've had sex with in-" Dean stops. "Anyway, you're my first in a long time." When he looks back at Cas, the guy's just staring at him again.

Dean lets out a laugh. "Kinda sweet, huh?"

"Flowers are sweet, Winchester. Holding hands is sweet. Small kisses when you think no one's looking is sweet. There's nothing sweet about what we did."

"What would you call it then?" Dean wonders.

"Long overdue," Castiel snarks. "That's what I would call it."

And that's something Dean can't argue with.

Their waitress returns with more shots when Dean's phone buzzes in his pocket. A wave of anxiousness curls through him, afraid of what he'll see. What if something happened to Jane?

He pulls out his phone with fingers shaking and opens the text message.

It's from Charlie.

_How's it going with Dreamy?_

_You know, I can spend the night if you need me to. ;) ;)_

Dean lets out a breath of relief and types out a quick response. **Stop texting me. Rude to text on a date.**

_I thought it wasn't a date._

**fuck you**

_No, fuck Castiel._

**shut uphnji**

_Love you, too! <3_

Dean clicks out of his messages and stows his phone back in his pocket. "Sorry about that," he says. "Charlie was just checking in."

"She's the one I met today, right? The one I mistook for your wife?" Castiel asks, completely unbothered by the interruption.

 _Easy_ , Dean thinks.

"Yeah. She's with Jane tonight."

"I'm glad to know you and Jane have good people in your lives." Cas is tugging the shots towards them and pushing the remnants of food out of the way.

"Yeah," Dean agrees. "They're my village, y'know? Sam, and Sarah, and Charlie. I couldn't have done it without them."

Cas is just smiling at him, beaming really, and Dean doesn't know what to say or how to feel. Despite all his best efforts to keep from smiling back, he does anyway. Damn beautiful man with his damn beautiful face that makes Dean want to smile all the damn time. Dammit. How did he fall so fast?

"So," Dean says, after clearing his throat. "Why did you leave Maryland?"

"I think we should drink first," Cas says, handing one of the shots to Dean.

Dean laughs, "Yeah, okay." But he doesn't so much do the shot as he does watch Castiel down his and silently thank god for tequila.

"Maryland just wasn't for me," Cas explains, "I missed home and had been gone a long while so when I applied for a fellowship at KU and was accepted, I left."

"And you operate on baby hearts."

Cas huffs a small laugh. "This will be my first year as a fellow, but yes."

"That's-" Dean shakes his head. "Really respectable of you, dude. And hot. But yeah, respectable."

Cas' eyes crinkle at the corners, and it _does_ things to Dean. "Thank you, Dean. That's incredibly kind of you. I'm also not going to pretend that you finding my profession 'hot' isn't satisfying to me."

"Dean Winchester, satisfaction guaranteed," Dean says, shooting Castiel a wink. Cas shakes his head, but his smile doesn't falter.

"And you said at the reunion you're an artist, correct?"

"I'm in the woodworking business, but I guess you could consider it an art, yeah. I just do it out of Sammy's garage. It's not heart surgery, but it pays the bills."

"And you enjoy doing it," Cas points out.

Dean nods. "Yeah. I love it."

"Then it doesn't have to be heart surgery," Cas says. His eyes are soft, and he's looking at Dean in a way that makes Dean feel like everything is right in the world. It scares the shit out of him.

"So why didn't you talk to me in high school?" Dean asks, quickly changing the subject.

"Pass?"

"Is it really that bad?" Dean wonders.

Cas avoids Dean's gaze as he says, "It's not bad, just- embarrassing."

Dean bumps his knee against Castiel's under the table, sending warm fuzzies bursting everywhere in his chest. "Now you have to tell me," he says.

Castiel takes a deep sigh. "I didn't talk to you in high school because I was afraid to. You were the most beautiful person I'd ever seen and that was frightening. Not to mention you were always with people, and I didn't exactly know how to approach you." Castiel looks up from his glass and at Dean. "But mostly it was the beautiful thing."

Something surges through Dean that's too difficult to define. And of course, he could use this opportunity to his advantage and lean in and kiss Castiel like he's wanted to all night - _fuck_ , like he's wanted to for fifteen years - but instead he smirks and asks, "So at the reunion, you were able to talk to me because I wasn't as beautiful anymore?" It's meant to be a joke, self-deprecating as it is, but Castiel doesn't smile or laugh. He shakes his head.

"Quite the opposite," he says. "I almost didn't speak to you at all, but I'd spent the last fifteen years wondering what would have happened if I _had_ spoken to you in high school, so I promised myself if you were there, I was going to at least try."

"And then I left you," Dean mutters, rounding back to his guilt and letting it settle in nice and heavy on his chest. He was beginning to feel naked without it.

Cas frowns and moves in a bit closer, grabbing a fistful of Dean's shirt and leaning in so close Dean can feel Cas' breath on his lips. "You're here now," Cas says, his voice low. And it shouldn't be that easy, but it is. Cas' words ease the heaviness in his chest, make him feel lighter than he knew he could feel.

 _Easy_. Dean thinks. His hand moves of its own accord, landing high on Cas' thigh. Cas rests his free hand at the base of Dean's skull and pulls him in.

It's a slow kiss, exploratory, like a silent question neither of them has words for. _Can we do this? Is this okay? Are we on the same page?_ When Dean doesn't pull away, Cas sighs into his mouth, moving his fingers along the hair at the nape of Dean's neck. Dean's hand tightens on Cas' thigh.

"Would I be selfish for asking you to come home with me?" Castiel asks, still so close.

Dean's face pulls into a slight frown. "First of all, how drunk are you?"

"Not very. I feel quite sober, actually." He kisses Dean again. "Second of all?"

"Second of all, what's selfish about asking me to come home?"

"I wasn't sure if it would feel like I was trying to take time away from Jane. You have an equation, remember?"

And yeah, Dean does remember. He'd left because of Jane, because he didn't know how to fit someone else into his and Jane's lives. That feeling doesn't go away overnight. It might never go away. But Cas didn't even question that when Dean had talked about it. He didn't lecture like Sam and Charlie always do, he just nodded and that was it. Like he could empathize. So yeah, Dean's still scared shitless, but then Cas is good, and smart, and kind, and doesn't Jane deserve as many good people in her life as she can get?

Dean pulls away so he can see Castiel properly. Cas' hand loosens on Dean's shirt, and he sits up straighter. There's a sliver of fear in his eyes that kills Dean. But this is what Dean wanted, wasn't it? A second chance? Though he might be talking about a whole hell of a lot more than Castiel is, for all Dean knows the guy is just asking for sex. But Dean can't do just sex anymore. Not with Cas. Once was already more hurt than Dean can handle.

"I'm worried-" Dean stops, bites his lip. How the fuck do you even tell someone you hardly know that you're already kind of falling for them hard and fast and that if they don't feel the same way it's going to destroy you? Dean looks away, stares at the grooves in the table top. "I'm worried I can't just sleep with you."

Cas' eyes are soft when he responds. "I'm worried I can't just sleep with you either."

"So you're not just asking for a booty call?"

"I'm asking for a chance, Dean. I'm asking you to give me a chance; without walking away unless we both agree it's what's best. And I need you to be honest with me. If you don't feel like there's time that can be made to try, or you don't want to try, tell me now."

Cas is giving him an out. Easy as that, _if you don't want this, I'll walk away now_. But he's giving him an in, too, _if you do want me, here I am_.

Dean should take the out, deny his feelings, and end this now.

He should take the out and focus on Jane.

He should take the out, because he's never had an actual functioning relationship in his entire life, and how fair is it to Cas to be a guinea pig Dean will just end up destroying?

He should take the out. Because it's the right thing to do.

He should take the goddamn out.

But Dean's always been a selfish bastard.

Before he can convince himself not to, Dean digs his phone out of his back pocket and opens a new message to Charlie.

**_won't b home 2nite don't wait up_ **

Her response is almost instant. _I KNEW IT_

"What are you doing?" Castiel asks. Technically they were in the middle of a conversation.

Dean doesn't look up, tapping out another message. "Letting Charlie know I won't be home tonight."

**Jane?**

_Still sound asleep._

**IOU**

_You can reimburse me in details, now go be with your man._

Dean pockets his phone, grinning at Castiel. "Looks like I'm yours for the night, Novak."

"Are you sure that's okay?"

"As long as I'm home before she wakes up, I think it'll be fine. Now, what do you say we get the fuck outta here?"

Cas kisses him around a smile. "You can follow me there."


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel lives in a fairly sizeable farmhouse (owned by Cas’ mother, Dean’s told) that rests on at least an acre. Dean follows him through the city until they hit something more rural and the road melts from asphalt to dirt.

"This is where you live?" Dean blurts, staring up at the two-story home. It's a stark white color with a veranda wrapping all the way around it and shutters on the windows, like something out of a freaking fairy tale.

Castiel meets him on the walkway. "No, Dean. I just picked a random house and stopped. I have no idea who lives here, but I hope they aren't voyeurs."

"You fucker." Dean pulls Cas against him - feeling like he hasn't touched the guy in ages - and kisses him all open-mouthed and dirty, just how he's learning Cas likes it. Castiel tugs at Dean's jacket and pulls him up the walk.

While Castiel fumbles with his keys, cursing himself for forgetting to turn on his porch light before he left, Dean wraps his arms around the man's waist and presses kisses along his neck.

"You should hurry," Dean murmurs in Cas' ear.

Castiel huffs at him. "I'm trying."

Dean lets out a low chuckle and slides his hands from Cas' waist to the bottom-most button on his shirt. When he undoes the button, Cas grumbles at him.

"Dean, you're not helping."

"Aren't I?" He undoes a few more, enough to allow his hands to wander across Cas' bare abdomen, and bites Cas' earlobe.

"No, you're really- no-ot." The words are really more of a gasp than actual words, but Dean gets the gist.

"I thought it would be encouraging," Dean says. He keeps one hand flat on Cas' belly and lets the other skim along his pelvis and down to his growing erection. When Dean cups him, Cas lets out a loud groan and his head falls back on Dean's shoulder, his keys landing on the ground with a clink. "We doing this out here, or what?" Dean asks, massaging Cas a little harder.

"Absolutely not," Castiel grits.

Dean takes a step back, snickering as Cas sways on his feet, searching for balance. "Let's hurry it up then, sunshine."

Castiel breathes heavily for a moment before bending to pick up his keys. "I really hate you," he says, stepping back to the door. Dean moves to stand beside him, leaning against the door jamb with his hands shoved in his pockets and a wide grin on his face.

"Your dick says otherwise."

~

With the help of the flashlight on Dean's cell, Castiel finally gets the door open. He drags Dean inside and slams the door, pushing Dean up against it and sealing their mouths together. His thigh finds Dean's groin, and Dean takes absolutely no shame in rutting up against it.

"You really like shoving me up against stuff, don't you?" Dean snarks around Cas' mouth. "I'm having flashbacks to the reunion."

"Upstairs," Cas growls as he pushes at Dean's jacket, pulling it past his shoulders where it slides to the ground.

"Yep."

Castiel leads Dean clumsily up the stairs, his hands bunched in Dean's shirt, his own cardigan hanging off one shoulder - it comes the rest of the way off about halfway up the staircase.

Dean's tugged down a hallway - where he loses his shirt - and through what he assumes is Cas' bedroom door.

"No grand tour?" Dean asks, "What kind of host are you?"

"I didn't bring you here to be hospitable, Dean."

It's amazing Cas gets any words out at all as his mouth is all the fuck over Dean's neck, his chest, his jaw. Actually, it's kind of hot how gone Cas already is without Dean having done much at all. It makes Dean feel... capable, which apparently gives his brain reason to believe it's also perfectly normal and not at all weird to blurt, "I slept with you because you made me feel sexy."

Castiel's hands still where they're struggling with the button on Dean's jeans and he blinks up at Dean. "What?"

Dean swallows hard. "At the reunion. I slept with you because you made me feel- you know, that. And I hadn't felt that in a long time. Definitely not since Jane was born." He can feel his ears growing hot, his cheeks too, and in that moment he's pretty damn grateful the lights are off. "Not that she killed my drive, or whatever, but giving your life to a kid, it's- different, and I- anyway. The more time I spent with Jane and the less time I spent with- other people, the less desirable I felt. But you made me feel wanted. At the reunion. And it felt really good. Especially coming from you. That's why you were my first in a long time. Because I hadn't felt -" He can't say it again; the first time was embarrassing enough. But Castiel hasn't looked away since Dean started babbling, so Dean hasn't either, and now Castiel is smiling, and Dean can't tell if it's a good thing or a mocking thing.

"Sexy?" Castiel asks, resting his palms on Dean's cheeks. Dean nods. "And, desirable?" Another nod. Castiel's eyes grow hungry. "Oh, Dean." He says, "I desire you very, very much."

After that most of what happens is a blur. One big sexy blur. Dean registers his pants going down, and Castiel going with them. He recalls looking down at Cas who seemed to be on a mission to kiss absolutely every inch of Dean, and Cas looking back up at him, a punch of blue beneath his dark lashes. And then there was a wet heat closing around him, and that's when Dean's eyes slid closed and his brain fogged over with pleasure.

Now they're on the bed, and Cas is naked, too, Dean doesn't really remember exactly how that happened, or when Cas pushed Dean up against the headboard and straddled him, but he definitely ain't complaining.

Castiel's grinding down on Dean in earnest as he sucks and bites at Dean's nipples, his back a beautiful curve in the yellowy glow of the bedside lamp. For a fleeting moment, Dean doesn't know where to put his hands, fog threatening to envelop him again, but then he reminds himself that there's six feet of a beautiful, naked, fucking _beautiful_ man on top of him, there's not a single damn place he _shouldn't_ be putting his hands.

He reaches to cup the back of Cas' neck pulling him in to meet Dean's open mouth and slips a hand between them, taking hold of the both of them.

"Wait, Dean," Cas is flushed, his cheeks ruddy and his hair hanging in sweat-damp curls around his head. It's strange, thinking this is only their second time together, that they haven't been doing this for years, and years, and years because Dean's falling, no he's fucking _plummeting_ , head first into whatever the hell this is, and it's terrifying how quickly it all happened. Terrifying, and... wonderful.

 _Easy_.

"I forgive you," Cas says, gripping either side of Dean's face and holding his gaze.

Dean draws one of Cas' palms to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against his skin. "Thanks, Cas." Now if he can only forgive himself, too.

And it’s as if Cas heard his very thoughts. “You should forgive yourself,” he suggests quietly. “I know you haven’t. I can see it in your eyes.”

Dean intends to look away, but Cas’ fingers are there beneath his chin, tilting his gaze upwards. “One step at a time, huh, babe?” Dean asks because right now that’s all he can manage.

Cas nods, pressing a gentle kiss to Dean’s forehead. "That will do. Now," he says, cocking his head to the side and squinting at Dean. "Where were we?"

"I believe I was about to pleasure you into oblivion," Dean answers, gripping them both nice and tight.

Cas grips Dean's shoulders and gasps. "Fuck."

Between the up-down slide of Dean's hand and the way Cas has his forehead rested against Dean's, kissing him when he can and breathing Dean's name when he can't, the pleasure-fog returns quickly, and Dean is lost once again.

When Castiel starts beading pre-come, his hand joins Dean's, and he helps drag himself over the edge, murmuring Dean's name when he comes. Dean's almost there, trapped on that edge just before orgasm that's so mind-blowingly frustrating it could drive someone crazy, and then Cas' hand is there again, stroking Dean just right, muttering to him in a hushed tone.

"Dean, open your eyes." Dean forces his eyes open, Cas swimming into focus. "I want to see you when you come." And that's it, show's over folks.

Castiel kisses Dean through his orgasm, brushing his fingers through Dean's hair and gently cupping his cheek like he's the most precious thing in the world. Dean's eyes slide shut and he smiles.

"You're fucking amazing. You know that, Cas?"

"Yes, but it's nice to hear someone else say it every once in awhile," Cas says, bending to kiss the tip of Dean's nose.

Dean peels his eyes open, looking down where they're both growing soft, the proof of their ministrations splashed across their bellies and legs. "What a humble man you are."

"I do my best," Cas says, then after a beat asks, "Would you like some waffles?"

Dean's head falls back to rest against the headboard, and his eyes fall closed once more, basking in his afterglow and the gentle feel of Cas' fingers carding through his hair. "What?"

"I'm hungry. Would you like some waffles?" Then Cas chuckles, pressing another kiss to Dean's forehead and closed eyelids. "Or would you prefer to sleep?"

"Nah," Dean says, blinking his eyes open and wrapping his arms around Castiel. "Food sounds good."

Cas kisses him.

~

Neither of them bother putting on anything more than just their underwear. Castiel leads the way downstairs, stepping over the trail of clothes they left on the way up and flipping lights as he goes. Dean stills at the bottom of the staircase, taking in Cas' house in the light. It looked pretty damn big from outside in the dark, but inside is, well.

"Place is kinda big for just one person, huh, Cas? I didn't know the honey business was so lucrative."

"And I didn't know you were such a smart ass."

Dean snickers. "We both know that's not true." He marvels at the high beamed ceilings and aged wooden floor, shiny and perfect like it was just put in. He wanders into the sitting room just off the left of the stairs and curls his toes in the fluffed up rug that holds a worn wooden coffee table and plush couches.

There's a fireplace framed in brick and topped with a striking aged oak mantel that matches the floors and ceiling beams almost exactly. At the front of the room sit windows on windows on windows, offering a perfect view of the massive trees on Cas' lawn and flickering lights outside.

In a word, the place is beautiful. What it lacks in decoration, it makes up for in its good bones and charm.  

"Dean." Cas' voice comes from behind him, drawing Dean's attention from the window and to Cas peering around the corner at him. "The kitchen's this way."

"Right." He follows Castiel's voice into the kitchen, and if he thought the rest of the place was impressive, the kitchen is downright euphoric.

"Oh God, I think I'm in love," Dean mutters, gaping at the marble countertops and oak floors. He trails his fingers over the smooth alder cabinets, eyeing the largest oven he's ever seen and marveling at the copious amounts of _space_.

Castiel pulls his head out of the fridge - which is also gigantic - to squint at Dean. "What?"

"I mean the kitchen," Dean explains with a nervous laugh. "It's awesome. I could bake like six pies at a time in that thing." His eyes are back on the oven.

"I didn't know you bake," Castiel states from inside the fridge.

"I like to whip up a few things when I have the time. Hey, is this the original flooring and cabinetry? This wood is in pristine condition."

Castiel closes the fridge, empty-handed and frowning. "Not in here, no. I tried to keep what I could, but the kitchen had to be redone. It's all reclaimed though, from the same time period the house was built."

"Amazing."

"I'm impressed you can tell the quality just by looking at it." Cas is wandering into the pantry now, scouring shelves and huffing every now and again. Dean should probably help him find whatever the hell he's looking for, but Castiel had mentioned not bringing him here to be hospitable so Dean figures the guy can brave the quest for food on his own. Plus he's pretty fucking adorable when he's being pissy.

"I am a carpenter by day. I guess you could say I'm really great with wood if you catch my drift."

"I'd like to catch your drift in here," Cas grumbles, clearly not amused by Dean's obviously hilarious sexual humor.

Dean wanders into the pantry finding himself surrounded by shelves filled with boxes, and cans, and bags. "I dunno, Cas, I've never done it in a pantry before, but I'll try anything once."

"That's not what I meant," Castiel says, even as Dean advances on him. "I wanted help looking for the waffle mix; Gabriel was here the other day, and apparently he's inept at returning things to their proper place." He makes a futile protest when Dean wraps his arms around Cas' waist and backs him up against the shelves.

"You sure you didn't just lure me in here to make out?" Dean asks, nosing along Cas' jaw then bending to suck at his neck.

"I was," Castiel grumbles. He tilts his head back to give Dean better access.

"And now?"

Cas groans in frustration, hauling Dean in for a proper kiss, melding their mouths together. Dean smiles into the kiss, allowing his hands to roam the hard planes of Cas' body and down to his ass, squeezing tight. Cas groans again, falling back against the shelves sending gravy mixes and a couple pasta salad boxes tumbling to the ground.

"You play dirty, Winchester."

" _I_ play dirty," Dean scoffs. He shoves his hands in Cas' hair, tugging, addicted to how responsive Cas is, and aligns their hips together, rolling against Cas. It's too soon for either of them to get hard again, but it still feels pretty fucking amazing. "You're the one walking around the place practically naked. How am I not supposed to jump your bones?"

Cas' head is thrown back against one of the shelving supports, his chest is flushed, his mouth hanging slack, and Dean may have underestimated himself, arousal curling thick in his gut.

"Dean," Cas breathes.

"Yeah."

Castiel drags Dean in again, kissing him hard. " _Shut up_."

When they finally stumble out of the pantry, Cas' hair is an absolute disaster, and Dean's got a bite mark on his shoulder. But, neither of them are complaining.

~

Cas goes all out with the waffles - when he finally finds the fucking mix. He drenches two stacks in butter and syrup and dusts powdered sugar on top, garnishing the whole thing with a handful of fresh fruit straight from his garden.

"Wow, Cas," Dean says cutting a piece off the stack and shoving it in his mouth. He hasn't even found a place to sit down yet. "You really don't mess around with these things, do you."

"I guess you could say I'm an 'all in' kind of guy," Cas grouses, grabbing a handful of napkins and some silverware. "If you catch my drift."

Dean snorts around the bite of food in his mouth. "Why is it okay when you make stupid sexual jokes but not when I do?"

"Because mine wasn't stupid,” Cas informs him, "it was funny. Living room's in here." He hands Dean a glass of milk and heads for the next room over with a stupid smirk on his face. Dean should probably kiss it off of him. Just to make sure the guy doesn't get too cocky.

There's a colossal sectional in the living room, probably wide enough to fit the both of them on it at once - which Dean vows to confirm - and a built-in on the back wall that houses the TV. When Dean turns to find a spot to sit down, he's met with a pair of wide green eyes and twitching ears.

"Uh, Cas? There's a cat on your couch."

Cas' back is to him. He's fiddling with the damn remotes like he doesn't know how to work his own TV, which come to think of it, would not surprise Dean in the least.

"There usually are," Castiel says. "I have three kittens. The mother comes and goes, but the kittens never leave."

"Three." Dean deadpans, skirting around the grey ball of fur and sitting at the other end of the couch. Cas is coming towards him now, balancing his plate, glass, and the remotes in his hands.

"Yes, three. And six chickens, a goat, and about 20,000 bees."

"You're just a regular Old McDonald aren't you?"

Cas takes a spot next to Dean and flicks the channel on the TV, scrolling through infomercials and old reruns. "Old McDonald had far more animals than I do, but perhaps someday. Would you rather watch an OxiClean infomercial or _Family Feud_ from what appears to be the mid-eighties?"

"Tough call. Definitely _Family Feud_."

Hunkering down on the couch they eat their waffles and watch _Family Feud_ , shouting out answers before the contestants can and arguing over whose answer is better. Cas ends up winning but only on a technicality.

When the waffles have been devoured, Dean lays himself out on the couch and tugs Cas down next to him. Cas goes with an "oof," and Dean throws what might be the softest blanket he's ever felt over them, wrapping his arms around Castiel's middle.

"We fit," Dean revels, nosing between Cas' shoulder blades and kissing the base of his neck.

"How long have you been plotting this sneak cuddle attack?" Cas' words are coming out slower, his voice growing rougher.

 "Since about an episode and a half ago."

Cas hums in response, slotting his fingers between Dean's where they rest on Cas' stomach. It feels incredible, holding Cas like this, laying skin to skin, knowing even when their night together is over he'll see Cas again, and again, and again.

They lay there in the hushed sounds coming from the TV for the rest of the episode, and Cas' breathing grows deeper, steadier. Dean lets his hand trail from Cas' belly to his chest and back down again asking, "Hey, Cas. You awake?" His thumb brushes over a nipple, and Cas shifts marginally, pushing his ass up against Dean's groin, and yup, Dean could definitely go for round two right about now. And maybe he should let the guy sleep, but there's also all that lost time they've got to make up for.

Cas hums something indiscernible.

"Cas," Dean repeats, peppering kisses along his back and skimming his hand over Cas' dick. He drags the flat of his palm over it, putting pressure behind the movement, and Cas lets out a soft moan. After another stroke, Dean can feel Cas getting hard right in the palm of his hand.

"Cas, babe," Dean says again. "I don't know how you feel about somnophilia - which by the way, please don't ever let the fact that I'm asleep keep you from doing whatever you want to me, I mean it Cas - so I'm gonna stop unless you tell me not to."

A hand wraps around Dean's wrist, grip tight. "Don't you dare," Cas rumbles.

Dean smiles against Cas' shoulder. "Yes, sir."

He rubs Cas through his underwear, delighting in the sounds Cas emits as Dean rolls his hips gently against him.

When he dips a hand down the front of Cas’ underwear and pulls out his length, Cas sighs like he’s been waiting for this very moment his entire life. Dean smiles against the curve of Cas’ shoulder, pushing at the waistband of his underwear. “Can I-“ He doesn’t finish, doesn’t need to finish because Cas is shoving his underwear down his hips, then reaching for Dean’s.

“Please,” he breathes.

And Dean sure doesn’t need to be asked twice. Fitting himself into that space that feels like it was made just for him, he rocks into Cas, bracing himself with a hand on Cas’ hip as a pleasure wave rolls through him. Castiel pushes against him, increasing the pressure.

“Fuck,” Dean mutters. He wraps a fist around Cas again and strokes in time with the shallow thrusting of his hips. It’s not enough in the same way that it’s too much. He’s just rutting up against Cas’ ass, but it’s so close to being _inside_ of him that the very idea of it drives Dean closer and closer to orgasm.

He can tell when Castiel is getting close, his breath stuttering in his chest, back arching, and for a moment Dean kinda wishes he wasn’t behind Cas, that he could see him losing himself. But then Cas’ hips send his backside hitting Dean in just the right way, and he closes his eyes, listening to Cas falling apart.

“Dean,” he breathes, “Dean. _Dean_.”

“I’m here,” Dean says quietly in Cas’ ear, smiling around the words because they feel so good to say. “I’m here, Cas.”

Cas wraps a hand around Dean’s wrist and comes in his fist at almost exactly the same time Dean’s release wracks through him. They breathe in tandem, Cas’ fingers still a sure weight against Dean’s pulse, and Dean presses kisses against Castiel’s back and shoulders.

“I’d kiss you right now, but I can’t move,” Cas mutters.

Dean smiles. “That’s okay,” he says. “I’ll kiss you enough for the both of us.”

~

After that, it's definitely time for a shower. With a heavy sigh, Castiel rolls from Dean's arms and tugs him off the couch, leading him back up the stairs, past his Olympic sized jet tub ("Next time," Cas promises) and into Cas' gigantic ass shower with rainforest shower heads and beautiful vein cut granite from floor to ceiling. Seriously, whoever designed the place really did the building justice.

"Yes to somnophilia, by the way," Castiel mutters, drawing Dean in for a kiss. His hair is all soaped up with some rosemary smelling junk, and his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink in the curling steam. "But if the orgasm isn't good enough to wake me, I'll be sorely disappointed."

Dean grins against Cas' mouth. "Deal." And despite his best efforts to keep his hands to himself, Dean just can't help himself, not with Cas' slick, wet body just inches from his own.

He fits his hands to Cas' hips, pulling him in until they stand flush, pressing his nose against Cas' neck, fresh smelling from the soap he'd just laved all over it.

"You're going to get shampoo in your eyes," Castiel comments, but doesn't push Dean away.

"Don't care," Dean says. "Want you."

Cas' fingers trail lightly over Dean's vertebrae, his other hand coming to rub at the base of Dean's neck. "You have me," he says, quietly.

Dean smiles into Cas' neck.

There's not much time for more than a nap after their shower. Dean sets his alarm for five before throwing a clean blanket over the two of them and wrapping himself around Cas, but when it goes off just a few hours later, Cas is smiling at him, sleepy and content.

"Do you have time for coffee?" he wonders, linking his fingers through Dean's, effectively unleashing all the butterflies in Dean's stomach he thought he'd wrangled already.

"On the veranda?" Dean wonders, cheeky.

Castiel leans in to press a kiss to Dean's nose. "Wherever you want."

They drink their coffee while the sun rises, a bright burst of gold piercing the otherwise grey sky above them. The whole moment feels perfect, aside from Jane not being there, and when Dean finally stands to leave, he holds Cas for as long as he can, kissing the top of his head and muttering, "I'll see you later, okay?" And as much as he wants to, Dean can't possibly stay any longer without running the risk of not be home when Jane wakes up.


	6. Chapter 6

The house is quiet when Dean steps through the door. Charlie's tangled up in a blanket on the couch, and when he peeks inside Jane's room she's still asleep, strawberry curls fanned out on her pillow and lips sucking wildly at her pacifier. She may be almost three years old, but Dean still gets a happy lump in his throat every time he looks at her.

Closing the door behind him, Dean heads for the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee and taking a roast out of the freezer to thaw for dinner.  

"You look too happy to be doing a walk of shame." Charlie shuffles into the kitchen, hair a mess and eyes blinking.

"That's cause there ain't nothing shameful about it," Dean says. He pushes the doughnuts he'd picked up on the way towards her and pulls off the lid.

Charlie's face brightens at the sight, and she pulls out a chocolate covered bar. "Get much sleep?" she asks, eyebrows wiggling.

"Wouldn't you like to know." But for all the confidence in his words, Dean feels his ears heat, knowing they're very likely as red as Charlie's hair.

"So," Charlie slides behind Dean, pulling a mug out of the cupboard above the coffee maker and pouring herself a cup. "I said you could repay me in deets. I'm ready to cash in."

Dean mulls over his thoughts, debating on how much to tell her. "It was easy," he finally settles on, smiling to himself. He pulls open the fridge and digs around for carrots, carefully avoiding Charlie's gaze.

"Well that's good, right?" Charlie wonders. She's at the dining table now, devouring another doughnut, round and glazed this time.

"It might be good now, but for how long?" It's a question he's been shoving from his mind all night, but now that he's not tangled up in the intoxication that is Cas, it hits him full force, that oh-so-familiar blanket of insecurity he's grown to dragging behind him like he's fucking Linus van Pelt.

"Why does there have to be an expiration date, Dean? Maybe it's easy because it's just easy."

"Yeah, maybe." Dean dumps the carrots in a strainer and spritzes them with a fruit and vegetable wash. He leans on the lip of the sink, staring down at the carrots with unfocused eyes.

Charlie is standing next to him now, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. He looks over at her. "Did I ever tell you about the time I failed a programming fundamentals exam?"

Dean frowns. "What?"

"It should have been an easy class for me; I've known the 'fundamentals of programming' since I was like, six. But when it came time for the exam I Blast Masked myself without a shield because I knew every single answer on the test."

"You lost me," Dean says, wondering when the hell they had gone from Cas to programming fundamentals - whatever the fuck that was.

Charlie scoffs. "Majora's Mask reference," she mutters. She pauses to take another bite of her doughnut, chewing around her words. " _Anyway_ , I freaked out because it was _too_ easy. I second guessed every single answer, even though I _knew_ I was right. Had I not Trojan horsed my own head, I could have passed that test easy peasy lemon squeezy. But I failed because I got totally freaked that it was so _easy_."

Dean's still grasping for a point. "I don't follow," he admits.

Charlie sighs, rolling her eyes. "Dean, don't let Cas be your programming fundamentals exam. If something's easy, you don't have to work for it because you're already good at it. Why overcomplicate it?"

"I've never had easy," Dean counters. And he’s not being dramatic, he’s just being honest. With his mom passing away in his mid-teens, and his dad disappearing into a bottle after that, Dean may have graduated and gone through college, put Sam through too, but he worked his ass off every step of the way - even during the rebellious years of his life. "Everything in my life has come because I clawed my way to the top every damn time. So this- this is foreign."

"But it's _good_ , Dean. Let yourself have something good."

At that moment, Jane comes toddling out of her bedroom, tugging her blanket behind her. She's frowning, clearly still waking up, and it's about the cutest damn thing in the world.

"Speaking of something good," Dean says, bending to pull Jane into a hug. He lifts her in the air, holding her against his chest, and smoothing a hand over her bed head when she rests her head on his shoulder, grateful for the distraction.

Charlie is right, but Dean's not ready to admit that yet. "Hey, baby girl. How'd you sleep?"

Jane hums in response, and Dean smiles, patting her rear end. "Somebody's wet."

"I think that's my cue," Charlie says, gathering her things and tucking the box of remaining doughnuts under her arm.

"Hey, some of those are mine."

"I didn't get any details so the doughnuts will have to work as payment." She grins at him over the top of the bar. "Think about what I said, Dean. Bye, Janie."

Jane waves without looking up, and then Charlie is gone.

"Your Aunt Charlie is a dirty thief," Dean mutters, carrying Jane into his room. He digs out a clean pull-up and lays Jane on the bed to change her.

"You ready to wake up, sweetheart?" Dean asks, pulling her nightgown back down. She's sucking emphatically on her pacifier, eyes half-lidded. The two of them are usually still asleep this early in the morning. But Dean had purposefully overshot his time a little bit.

"Inna minnit," she garbles, head lolling to the side. She pulls a corner of her blanket up over her face, a clear indication she's done talking.

Dean chuckles.

Shucking out of his shirt and pulling on a pair of lounge pants, Dean slides into bed next to Jane. Warm, and content, he's asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

~

When Dean wakes up, he's got a text from Cas waiting for him. He rubs at his eyes and waits for some of the fog to clear from his brain before opening the message.

_I hope you were able to get some rest._

It's just a dumb text message, but there's a smile Dean can't stop from growing on his face, a skip in his heartbeat. He feels like he's fifteen all over again. Which, of course, isn't all that surprising considering Cas had made him feel that way back then, too. And they hadn't even been talking to one another.

Before responding, Dean sits in bed, searching for Jane. She's there next to him with Netflix going on her iPad and her Toothless backpack next to her, waiting for Dean to wake up.  

"Hey you, in the nightgown," he says. "Come're and give me some sugar, Sugar."

Jane looks over, smiling at him. She crawls through the nest of pillows and blankets to stand before Dean on wobbly legs. He reaches up and pulls her binky out of her mouth before she bends down and places a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Yo' scwatchy," she says, rubbing her lips.

"Am I?"

Jane nods. "Not wike me. I'n sof'."

"You _are_ soft," Dean agrees. "But I'm the dad, I'm supposed to be scratchy."

"No," Jane counters, "dad's tan be sof', too."

"Is that right?" Dean asks. Jane nods at him.

Pulling Jane onto his lap Dean snaps a photo of them before she starts her Netflix up again. Before he can second guess himself, he taps out a message, **Just woke up from a nap actually** , and shoots the picture to Cas. As soon as it's gone, he panics. What if that was too much too fast? Was it weird to send pictures of yourself to someone without them asking for it first? In a rush of nerves, Dean sends another message before Cas has had a chance to respond.

**Sorry was that weird? Did I make youu uncomfortable?**

_The only thing you made me is jealous of the two of you for lounging in bed without me._

_I'm feeding chickens._ Cas' second message comes with an accompanying photo, an awkward selfie of him in front of a chicken coop, squinting into the sun. Dean stares at it with a smile on his face for much longer than is necessary.

He wants to tell Cas to come over, hang out with him and Jane, but he feels like Jane deserves an explanation before he brings Cas into her life that way. She deserves to know what's going on and let Dean know how she feels about this; whatever _this_ is.

His phone buzzes in his hand again, drawing him from his thoughts.

_I meant to ask you; when is later?_

Dean frowns. **What?**

_This morning when you left you said 'I'll see you later.' I'm curious what your definition of later is._

**You saying you can't wait to see my sexy abs again?** Dean smiles.

 _Obviously._ Is Cas' reply.

 **Lunch tomomorrow, 1ish?** He asks, hoping he doesn't sound too eager. **I can get away for an hour.**

_Where should I meet you?_

**Remember the old diner on 4th? Johnny Mac's?**

_I'll see you there._

_Although, I believe they abide by the No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service policy._

**Yeah, so?**

_So I don't see seeing your sexy abs again working in my favor at that establishment._

Dean's face grows warm. He's never really flirted with someone he planned on seeing more than once - there hasn't been anyone he's planned on seeing more than once - but flirting with Cas is satisfying in a way Dean could absolutely get used to.

 **I'll let u fondle my ass when u kiss me goodbye...** He types back. Excitement flutters in his chest when Castiel responds.

_That will do._

~

Dean devotes the rest of his day to Jane and getting the apartment in order for the week. After dinner, Jane asks for apples and honey - something she's been addicted to since the farmer's market - and before Dean knows it, the sun is making its descent towards the horizon.

After Jane's bath, Dean tucks her into bed with her raggedy baby blanket, twirling a stray curl around his finger.

"You want a story or a song tonight, Janie?"

"Stowy."

She chooses _Where the Wild Things Are_ and settles in to listen.

The two of them know the book by heart, it's been Jane's favorite since she understood what books even were, but her eyes still light up with amusement and intrigue when Dean turns to the first page.

"The night Max wore his wolf suit, and made mischief of one kind and another, his mother called him 'wild thing' and Max said-"

"Daddy?"

Dean stops, looking to Jane. "Yeah, baby."

"Why don' I had a muver?"

Dean's mouth moves like a fish, opening and closing with no sound coming out, and his fingers tremble where they rest between the pages of the book. "Um-" he says then stops, completely at a loss for words. Jane watches him patiently while Dean works through the question in his head, pushing down a wave of nausea that rolls through him. He had hoped he'd be more prepared when Jane started having questions like this, he just didn't know he needed to start preparing so early.

"Does it make you sad that you don't have a mom?" he finally asks.

"What do dey do?" Jane wonders.

"Well," Dean says, shifting in his seat. He hasn't had a mother in almost twenty years, most of the memories he has of Mary are cloaked in sepia-toned light, faded at the edges. But he'll never forget her warmth or her love. "They sing you lullabies at night, and they give you hugs when you're sad, and they make sure you wash behind your ears in the bath." He smiles at Jane when she giggles at that. "And they uh- they're just there for you. Whenever you need them to be."

"You do alluv dos fings," Jane points out.

A shred of relief passes through Dean, and he nods. "I do," he says.

"So I don' need a mommy."

"Not everyone has one," Dean explains. "Some families have one mom, or one dad, some have two mommies or two daddies, and some don't have any moms or dads at all."

Jane's big green eyes grow sad. "You should be der daddy," she tells him, and Dean blinks at her, once again blindsided by the infinite wisdom of his toddler.  

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" he agrees after a beat. Jane smiles, nodding. "I would probably need some more help around here if I were gonna do that, though. Don't you think?"

"Wike a mommy?" Jane wonders.

Dean bites his lip. He had wanted to talk to Jane about Castiel. This might be the prime opportunity to do so. "Or maybe another daddy," he offers. He watches her face intently, waiting for her reaction.

"Wike Tando?" Jane asks, referencing one of her favorite books _And Tango Makes Three_.

Dean quietly sends a thank you to Sam for insisting Jane needed a book about a little girl with two dads 'just in case, Dean.'

"Exactly like Tango," Dean says.  

"But would you stiw be my daddy, too?"

Dean's heart clenches at the question. "Of course I would, sweetheart. I'm not ever going anywhere. I'll always be her for you. If you were to have two dads it would mean I found someone I loved-"

"Wike Woy an’ Siwo?"

"That's right. Roy and Silo made a family together because they loved each other. If I found someone I loved, he would become part of our family, and we would all be together: you, and me, and him."

"And den maybe you tan be some uder kids’ daddies?" She's eyeing her pacifier where it rests on her nightstand now, which means she's getting tired. Dean hands it to her, pulling the covers up higher around her. "We could see about that," he says.

"I would wike two daddies," Jane answers without giving it any thought at all. Dean's gratitude towards Jane swells. Best. Kid. On. The. Planet.

He closes the book, setting it aside and grips his knees with clammy hands. "So uh- you know how Silo and Roy did stuff together a lot because they loved each other? Swimming and all that?"

Jane nods.

"If I had someone start coming over to hang out with you and I, would that be okay?" His voice shakes slightly as he asks. Jane is only almost three. There's part of this that's got to be way beyond her understanding, and Dean prays he's not making a huge fucking mess of the whole thing. The last thing he wants to do is screw up his kid for his own selfish motives. But then children are perceptive, Jane especially so, and he feels it’s better to be frank than make her feel like he wasn't honest from the beginning.

Jane looks thoughtful for a moment before she answers. "I’ he nice?" she asks.

"Yeah," Dean says, chuckling. "He's very nice."

"Tan we doe on a pi'ni'?"

"Absolutely we can go on a picnic." Dean drapes Jane’s baby blanket over her face, and Jane lets out a small laugh, pushing the blanket down to rest under her chin.

"Whassis name?" she questions.

"Oh, um-" Dean rubs his hands on his jeans. "You remember Cas? From the farmer's market?"

Jane's face brightens as she nods. "He dave me honey."

"That's right, he did. Would it- uh. Would it be alright if he started coming over more to be with us."

"Would he bwin me honey?"

Dean chuckles. "I'm sure we could ask him."

"Yeah," Jane says with conviction. "He tan tome ova. He wooks wike a pwince."

"He's daddy's prince," Dean offers without thinking, and he should really start paying more attention to what the hell's coming out of his mouth, but then nothing he's said hasn't been true.

But Jane's eyes go starry as they close, sweet smile gracing her lips. "Does he wove you, Daddy? Wike Siwo an’ Woy?" she asks quietly, so close to dropping off to sleep.

Dean's stomach flips, and he feels a rising panic, thinking about Castiel and whether or not he's someone Dean could love. He shouldn't be able to gage something like that this early in the game. And maybe love is too strong to consider right now, but when Dean ponders how much he cares for Cas already, a calm washes over him, and he smiles to himself.

"He might," Dean mutters before dropping a kiss to Jane's forehead and padding quietly out of the room. He might.

As Dean goes to bed that night, the last thing he remembers thinking is, _that was easy._


	7. Chapter 7

Dean is a nervous wreck by the time he pulls into Johnny Mac's Diner on Monday afternoon. He checks his teeth in his rearview mirror before stepping out of the car, stomach a mess of knots.

Just as he's wondering what the protocol is for dates with someone you're not just trying to sleep with - does he wait for Cas in the parking lot or in the diner? Do they kiss when they see each other? Or hold hands as they walk in together? - Castiel pulls in next to him and Dean might actually pass out he's so edgy.

But then Cas climbs out of his car, smiling at Dean, and he rounds the Impala and pulls Dean in for a kiss like he didn't have to think about it at all.

Dean sighs into Cas' mouth, his worry dissipating just as quickly as it had come. It's only been just over twenty-four hours since they last saw one another, but it feels like it's been a lifetime.

"Fuck, I missed you," Dean mutters.

Cas strokes Dean's jaw with his thumb. "I missed you, too," he says.

Dean presses their lips together a second time. "You know, I can park around the corner; we could get frisky in the back seat – forego lunch.”

Cas grins at him. “Is this one of your teenage fantasies?”

“Maybe,” Dean admits around a blush. And he kinda meant what he said, but he’s also not the least bit disappointed when Castiel links their fingers together and pulls him towards the diner.

~

The place hasn't changed much since they were in high school. The tables are still covered in black Formica, the benches and chairs still decked in their telltale red vinyl, and the same rickety old jukebox still rests in the exact same corner as it did fifteen years ago.

As a teenager, this is where Dean dreamed about taking Cas on their first date - if he ever got up the courage to ask him that is - and so maybe Dean's about a decade and a half late, but here he is with Cas, just like he imagined. Dean smiles to himself at the thought.

"What are you smiling at?" Castiel asks, slotting a knee comfortably between Dean's. Dean toys with his menu, feeling warm all over.

"Uh- I was just thinking if my teenage self could see me now." He smiles to himself, shaking his head.

"I know the feeling," Castiel replies, smile warm.

It's not long before their waitress comes to take their orders, and when she's gone, they fall amiably into mindless chatter; easy in a way that still surprises Dean.

"I talked to Jane about you," Dean says a while later, dipping a thick home cut fry into the mound of ketchup on his plate - he'd held the sauce out to Cas after using it, but Cas had shaken his head, declining. Dean took that for 'no thank you', but what it seems Cas actually meant was 'I'll just use yours' because not a beat later he was reaching across the table and dunking into Dean's.

Cas' eyebrows hit his hairline, and he wipes his fingers on the napkin draped over his lap. "How did it go?"

"Pretty awesome actually. Kinda wasn't expecting her to be so cool with it, but she is. I mean, I still kinda want to ease her into it, but when she found out it was you, her only question was whether or not you were going to bring her honey."

A light smile graces Cas' lips, "I can do that," he says.

"I mean it's not a stipulation," Dean is quick to point out, but Castiel shakes his head, waves off Dean's comment.

"I'm happy to do it, Dean. Jane can have as much honey as she likes if it means I'm able to spend time with the two of you." He winks at Dean, and the bubbles of anxiety in Dean's chest pop leaving him feeling light.

Cas squeezes lightly at Dean's knee where it's trapped between both of Cas', and Dean smiles.

"You know you're welcome without it though."

"I know," Castiel confirms. "And you know it really isn't any trouble."

"Yeah," Dean relents.

After burgers they order shakes, prolonging their time together. They spoon little bites out of each other's glasses, and by the time the check comes, Dean's face is almost sore with the amount of grinning he's been doing.

Leaving his card with the waitress and informing her the check is on him, Castiel excuses himself to the restroom as Dean digs around in his glass for any remains of his dessert. He's alone at the table for only a moment before Cas' phone lights up with a text message. Instinctively Dean glances at the screen, and his heart stops in his chest. It's not the message that's got emotion curling in his chest though, it's the picture that smiles up at him - the picture he sent Cas yesterday of he and Jane right after their nap. Dean is shirtless, hair ruffled and eyes warm, and Jane's on his lap, grinning around her pacifier with tufts of hair haloing her head.  

He doesn't realize he's blushing until Castiel slides back into the booth across from him and tilts his head in Dean's direction. "You're blushing," he points out, and his eyes follow Dean's down to his phone.

"Oh, I-" Castiel clicks the screen off, the picture instantly replaced by flat black, and Dean looks up at him. "It's a nice picture," Castiel finally says in a breath. He looks nervous, embarrassed almost, and he frowns when the corners of Dean's mouth tug up.

Dean means to say something to soothe Castiel, but he hasn't quite got words for the warmth ballooning in his chest. Instead, he mutters, "Well aren't we just a coupla saps." But it seems to do the trick, because Cas' worried expression is replaced with a smile of relief, and Dean wants nothing more than to drag the man across the table and kiss him until neither of them can breathe.

Once outside Dean crowds Castiel up against his car and does just that, getting a rush out of the way Cas sighs into his mouth and how his hands find Dean's hips beneath his jacket.

"Is this the allotted ass fondling time I was promised?" Cas asks against Dean's lips.

Dean grins. "Hell yeah, it is."

Cas wastes no time at all in allowing his hands to wander from Dean's hips down to his denim-clad backside, fingers splaying wide, cupping Dean shamelessly as he draws him in for another kiss. Dean can't hold back the soft moan that bubbles up in his throat.

"Backseat offer still stands," he breathes, biting gently at Cas' bottom lip. He knows they're in the middle of a goddamn parking lot, elderly and families alike coming and going around them, but he can't give fuck all to stop.

Cas' hands are on Dean's chest now, and he pushes softly.

"While I'm incredibly inclined to accept your offer, I don't think there's enough time for all the things I'd like to do to you - not today anyway." His smirk is firm, eyes flashing, and Dean feels warm from the tips of his toes to the very top of his head, immediately aroused.

"Rain check then," he manages.

Castiel hums nodding his head. "Oh yes," he agrees. "Rain check."

Dean hangs around as Castiel climbs behind the steering wheel of his car and taps on the window when Cas' engine revs to life. The window slides down with a quiet squeak, and Cas is sitting with eyes upturned, soft lines webbing out at their sides.

Dean leans in the window and kisses Cas again. One last time. "For the road," he says. Then Castiel is pulling out of the parking lot, and Dean's rubbing his knuckles against his chest, attempting to calm the aviary that's come to life behind his breastbone.

~

When he arrives back at work, he's got a message from Cas. _Friday? Dinner?_

**I'll c if Sam and Sarah mind watching Jane. Pick me up?**

_Of course._

And despite it being just after two on Monday afternoon, Dean just knows it's going to be an awesome week.

**:::**

It is an awesome week. Until Wednesday morning when Jane slumps against Dean's doorjamb, fat tears leaking from her eyes and lip trembling.

"Daddy," she calls out, voice weak.

Dean looks over at her from where he stands at his dresser, strapping his watch around his wrist and trying to decide what to whip up for breakfast. As soon as he sees the flush in her cheeks stark against the pallor of her skin he's across the room, kneeling in front of her.

"What's wrong, baby?" He puts the back of his hand against her head, frowning. She's burning up, looks miserable, and when Dean pulls her in for a hug she falls against his chest, body going limp. Dean's first instinct is to panic, flashbacks crowding his mind of his tiny baby girl in a huge, sterile hospital bed, hooked up to machines and asking every single day when she could go home.

Cradling Jane against his chest he stands, dialing Sarah with shaking fingers and seeking out Jane's lancet, frantic to rule out this sudden onslaught of illness as anything diabetes related.

"Hey," Sarah answers, and as soon as he hears her voice, Dean feels a shred of relief. "I was just going to see if you cared if I take Jane to lunch while you're at work today."

"She's actually not feeling so hot. I think we're gonna stay home."

"Everything okay?" Sarah questions, instantly picking up the tightness in Dean's voice.

Dean wills himself to breathe before answering. "Don't know yet; she's burnin' up pretty good. I'm testing her blood right now."   

"I'll be right there," Sarah says. She doesn't even wait for Dean to thank her before the line goes silent. Dean pulls the phone away from his ear, pressing it against his forehead and closing his eyes for a beat, focusing on the frenzied beat of his heart, willing it to steady. He needs to be calm for Jane.

When he feels steadier on his feet, Dean readies Jane's lancet and lowers her down onto his bed, nestling her in the pool of sheets and pillows. "Gonna do a poke," he tells her, placing the device against the tip of her finger and cringing at the all too familiar click that signals the pricking of Jane's finger.

She lays quiet, eyes heavy and limbs flaccid at her sides. The only comfort Dean finds is the steady rise and fall of her chest.

By the time Sarah arrives, Dean's written down Jane's ketone level and taken her temperature. He's getting ready to give her some insulin when Sarah pads into the bedroom. "How's she doing?" she wonders, voice quiet.

"Ketones aren't great, but okay," Dean mutters, not looking up. "She's running a temperature, 102. She went to bed early last night and slept in today. I just thought she was worn out." Guilt is coursing through him - how could he have missed this?

Sarah gently tugs the syringe out of Dean's unsteady grip and administers the medicine while Dean clings to his daughter's hand, then she pulls a stethoscope out of the bag slung over the crook of her elbow and listens to Jane's heart.

"Flu's going around," she calmly offers. "Bronchitis and nasty colds, too." The stethoscope hangs unused around her neck now, her fingers pressed light against Jane's wrist.

"She had her flu shot," Dean says desperately. Sarah fixes him with sympathetic eyes.

"I know," she tells him. "She's going to be okay, Dean. We'll just have to watch her extra close for the next few days. Do you want me to stay?"

Dean wants to say yes. There's not much Sarah can do that Dean can't do himself, however, the idea of just having her there, available if anything does happen makes him feel a whole hell of a lot better about the situation. After a beat, he shakes his head.

"You'll need to keep up with her ketones more often than usual until she's feeling better." Sarah explains, "and getting her to eat and drink is crucial. Every couple of hours at least. You'll keep me updated?"

Dean nods, glancing up at his sister-in-law, once again more grateful for her than he can express. "Yeah," he agrees. "Every couple of hours."

"Alright." Sarah presses a kiss to Dean's forehead and makes for the door. "I'm just a phone call away if you need anything. Even if it's just a nap."

"Thanks, Sarah."

When Sarah is gone, Dean settles Jane in the middle of the bed and removes his boots before climbing in beside her. His stomach is growling, and he's got about four orders to finish in the next two weeks, but all of that seems trivial at the moment. Right now the most important thing is being with Jane and making sure she gets everything she needs.

**:::**

By the time Friday rolls around the apartment is a disaster. The sink is full of three days worth of unwashed dishes - partially finished meals piled on the counter, a week's worth of Jane's pajamas are in a heap on the bathroom floor, and there are blankets, empty sippy cups, and discarded socks all over the living room. And Dean is exhausted.

On the upside, Jane's in chipper spirits by mid-afternoon, and Dean takes the opportunity to plug in his phone - dead since the previous evening - throw in a load of laundry that's been piled on his bedroom floor all week, and feed Jane something more substantial than soup for lunch.

When Jane goes down for a late nap, the laundry's done, and Dean carries the warm, mountain spring scented mound to the couch where he can watch crappy daytime television and fold. At least, that's the plan anyway. As soon as he drops himself onto the couch he's hit full force with how tired he really feels - stopping for the first time in three days. Taking care of a toddler is always a full-time job, but taking care of a toddler with diabetes and the flu is two full times jobs with unpaid overtime.

Flicking on the TV, Dean settles into the cushions, finding a random channel and reaching for a dishtowel from the pile beside him, his arms heavy and mostly uncooperative. Stopping on a rerun of a stupid cop procedural show from the early two-thousands, the last thing Dean remembers is Ice-T staring down some perpetrator and quipping a snarky punchline before cuffing him.

~

A couple of hours later, Dean's roused from his nap by Jane's voice calling to him. He peels his eyes open, sniffing, and finds Jane standing over him, hair wild, nightgown crinkled, and eyes shining.

"Hey, princess," Dean mutters, eyes closing again.

"I prefer sweetheart or baby, but princess works, too." The voice - definitely not Jane's - comes from above him, and Dean's eyes fly open in realization. Standing next to Jane, clutching one of her hands in his is Castiel. There's a smile in his eyes as he blinks down at Dean.

Dean sits up a little too fast. Head swimming. "Oh my god," he mumbles, rubbing at an eye with the heel of his hand. "Cas, _fuck_ \- I'm sorry, man. I totally forgot. Jane's been sick, and her numbers have been all over the place and-" He glances up at Castiel. "And you have no idea what I'm talking about," he states aloud, realizing he probably looks, and sounds, completely crazy.

"I believe you're referring to her ketones and blood sugar levels," Castiel counters easily. "They're harder to keep at a healthy level when diabetics are ill."

He sounds like a fucking WebMD article, which. "You been doing a little research on my kid?" Dean asks, smile tugging at his lips.

Castiel shrugs a shoulder, color lightly tingeing his cheeks. "Medicine fascinates me. And I had some extra time yesterday," he admits.

"That's uh-" Dean rubs a hand across the back of his neck, smiling. "That's pretty damn cool of you."

"Daddy, you sai’ two ba’ words," Jane cuts in. She's got her free hand on her hip, her lips pulled into an unamused pout.

"You're right, Janie. I did. Thanks for keeping me on my toes."

Jane looks up at Castiel. "We're not appos to say _fuck_ or _damn_ ," she explains.

Castiel chuckles, grinning down at her, and Dean's suddenly concerned his heart is either going to beat right out of his chest or stop completely. How dare the perfect, beautiful doctor look at his baby girl like that, all perfect and beautiful?

"Your daddy doesn't seem to be doing a good job remembering that," Cas remarks, the conspiratorial bastard.   

Jane shakes her head, pleased, and then Dean's got two pairs of bright eyes fixed right on him.

"Okay, you two are officially creeping me out," he says because isn't Cas supposed to be on his side? How the hell did Jane wrap him around her finger so quickly?

"No moe swears," Jane tells Dean. He nods.

"No more swears," he agrees.

The room falls silent for a beat, Dean growing wholly distracted by the warm tickle of happiness that flutters just behind his breastbone.

"I assume we're staying in tonight then," Cas finally says, eyeing first Jane in her nightgown, then Dean in his white tee and pajama pants.

Dean stands, bones popping and muscles groaning. "Dude, I'm such an-" he glances down at Jane, "a-s-s-h-o-l-e," he spells. "I swear I was gonna call yesterday, but the week kinda got away from me, and my phone died-"

Castiel doesn't immediately respond, watching Jane as she lets go of his hand and toddles out of the room, clearly not interested in the Grown Up Talk.

When she's out of sight, Castiel takes a step towards Dean, pulling him in with long fingers curled around Dean's forearms.

"Sorry about all this," Dean says as Cas brings their lips together. He smells good, clean, like that stupid rosemary and thyme he lathered all over Dean the other night.

"I hope you'll understand when I say there's no need to apologize."

Dean kisses Cas again, feeling a lot like he does not deserve the man standing across from him. "So uh- rain check?" he asks for the second time this week. He watches Cas' expression flicker into contemplation, his teeth sliding out to bite at his bottom lip.

"For going out? Yes," he says, then continues with, "but does that mean you're asking me to leave?"

Dean doesn't actually want Castiel to leave, but he can't ask the guy to stay when the apartment is a shit show and he and his daughter haven't even put on proper clothes for the day now can he? "I mean the place looks like a war zone," Dean offers.

"The place looks like you've had an ill child all week."

"And I was just gonna feed Jane something quick and easy so I could get all my shit done."

"I assume that's another word you aren't supposed to be saying," Castiel points out, eyes flashing, and the corners of his mouth upturned. His hands are on Dean's hips now, thumbs sneaking up underneath the hem of Dean's T-shirt to rub in soft circles.

Dean's response is no more than a, "hnnng" because Cas may be barely touching him, but the dude has got magic fucking hands and Dean cannot think with him doing that. When Dean doesn't say anything else, Cas slides a hand round to the small of Dean's back, drawing him closer.

"If you want me to leave, I will," he says, lips ghosting over Dean's forehead. "But I really don't mind-"

"You're weaving?" Jane's back, her iPad tucked under her arm and her brow pulled into an indignant frown.

Castiel drops his hands to hang either side of him and takes a minute step back, putting a small bit of distance between him and Dean. Dean bends to swing Jane into his arms, positioning her against his hip where she can pout at Castiel from a more effective height.

"Daddy and Cas were supposed to go on a date tonight, but Daddy forgot," Dean explains.

Jane's still frowning, obviously still waiting for a suitable explanation. "So he has to doe ba’ to his house?"

"Uh-"

Jane's watching him, Castiel is watching him, and Dean gives in - dirty house be damned. "Unless he wants to crash our pajama party," he says, raising a brow at Cas in question.

"I may be overdressed," Cas says. "I'm afraid I didn't bring any pajamas." But Jane's wiggling in Dean's arms with thinly veiled excitement. She reaches across the space between Dean and Castiel and pulls Cas in with hands placed on either side of his face.

"You tould wear my daddy's," she tells him like it's the most obvious solution in the world.

"You think that would be alright with him?" Castiel questions.

Jane nods, turning back to Dean. "Tan he had some jamas?"

"I'll go see what I can find," Dean agrees, placing Jane back on the ground. "Hang tight, princess," he says. "You too, Jane." He winks over his shoulder at Castiel as he pads into his bedroom.

Castiel is on the couch with Jane settled in his lap when Dean returns. They're both looking down at her iPad, the familiar sounds of Jane's Bumblebee Touchbook app floating into the air. "One bumblebee counted three flowers; one, two, three."

"Don't let her get you sucked into that," Dean says, holding the clothes out for Cas to take.

Cas smiles up at him. "Too late."

"I'm serious, man. She'll have you watching that thing for hours."

"It's a very cute bee, Dean" Castiel counters, glancing back down at the iPad.

“Yeah, well, after about forty-five minutes straight of him, he won’t be lookin’ so cute. You wanna change? I’m gonna get dinner started.”

"Yes." Cas drops a kiss on the top of Jane's head, maneuvering her onto an empty cushion and taking the clothes from Dean's waiting hands. "But let me help. I'll just be a moment." He kisses Dean before disappearing into the bathroom Dean's directed him to, and Dean takes no shame in watching him go.

Not too long after, Dean finds himself smiling down at the meatballs he's carefully been shaping for the past several minutes. There's a warm, happy feeling filling up his insides, and the poor meatballs are getting the brunt end of his elation.

"What are you smiling at?" Castiel asks lowly in Dean's ear, coming up behind him with two hands on Dean's hips. Dean's grin deepens. _You_ , he thinks. _Here in my home, in my pajamas, in my kitchen, making spaghetti with me, spaghetti we'll sit down to eat as a family._ And maybe their time frame is moving along way too fast to be considered normal, and maybe there are people that would call them crazy, but it's _their_ normal, and it's _perfect_ , and Dean is _happy_.

"You," he finally says, turning to press a kiss to Cas' lips. Cas smiles in return, humming into Dean's mouth, his grip on Dean tightening marginally. "Hey, my kid's still in there," Dean mumbles between one kiss and the next.

"She's still playing with her bees." Cas' mouth has moved from Dean's lips to the crook of his neck, teeth and tongue sending a shiver down Dean's spine. A low moan forms in Dean's throat, and it's all he can do to keep it from escaping.

"Get off me, you bastard," he grates, pushing into Cas' touch as he says it. The responding chuckle Cas lets loose in his ear doesn't help the situation at all. Meatballs and daughter be damned, he will ravish Castiel right here in this kitchen.

"Fine." Castiel relents, pressing one final kiss to Dean's overheated skin before taking a step back. "But I know what I want for dessert." There's a gleam in his eye when Dean looks at him, and Dean points a spatula at him, the kitchen utensil trembling in his unsteady grip.

"Set the table," he orders. "Over there. _Way_ over there. And get Jane in here to help."

Castiel winks at him as he waltzes from the kitchen. "Sure thing, Winchester."

Dean takes a moment to breathe, staring down at his meatballs, both hands perched on the countertop. "Kinky bastard," he mutters, dripping oil into a skillet and setting it on the burner to heat. "Gonna be the death of me."   

~

When dinner is over, Jane talks Dean and Castiel into playing Candy Land. They sit around the kitchen table dipping apples into honey and taking turns pulling small white cards from a stack nearest Jane and moving their colored gingerbread people around the board.

Castiel catches on almost immediately how much of a learning opportunity the game is for Jane, and when he begins showing her his cards each time, asking her what color he got, what shape she sees, or how many squares he's supposed to move, Dean squeezes his thigh under the table in encouragement.

Goddamn perfect doctor.

"What color did I get, bug?" Castiel asks with a private smile Dean's sure is meant for him. Jane's eyes light up when she looks at Cas' card, taking it from him and turning it to show him.

"You dot Tween Fwostine!" she responds, voice nearing shrill.

"Is that good?"

Jane nods, pointing to the woman dressed in periwinkle on the board. "It's amost winning," she explains.

One turn later, Castiel makes it all the way to King Kandy's kingdom, sliding his green gingerbread person across the board and past the gates of the palace. Jane is quick to congratulate him with a tiny closed fist thrust across the dining table, awaiting Castiel's answering bump.

"Dood dob," she says, stuffing another apple slice into her mouth.

"Yeah," Dean agrees. He ruffles Cas' hair from behind, dropping a quick kiss to his temple. "Good job. You're the Candy Land champion."

Cas turns to him, eyes twinkling and lips twitched up into a half smile. "What's my prize?" he asks, and maybe he doesn't mean anything by it, but a wave of heat rolls through Dean anyway.

"Your prize is," Dean says, standing from the table and lifting Jane into his arms, "helping me put Queen Frostine here to bed. Trust me, it may not sound like much, but it's truly a privilege."

He winks at Cas as he balances Jane on his arms, tummy down, and "flies" her to her bedroom, indicating for Cas to follow with an, "In here, champ," as he goes.

He drops Jane gently into the pile of down and pillows on her bed then retrieves her Toothless backpack from where it hangs at the front of her room. "Story or song tonight, baby?" Dean questions, getting her supplies ready to prick her finger one last time before bed. Cas is there now, too, settled at Jane's feet, glancing around her room with a keen interest.

"Song," Jane answers, grabbing her pacifier off the nightstand and popping it into her mouth. She smiles at Cas around the damn thing, eyes soft and happy. "Daddy's gon' sing," she tells him, holding her hand out dutifully for Dean to get the blood he needs.

Dean can hear the smile in Cas' voice when he responds. "I'm looking forward to hearing that."

When Dean is satisfied with Jane's health, he tucks the supplies back in her backpack and pulls his old guitar from its place in the corner of Jane's room. Jane's about the only human on earth who's heard him play - with good reason - and now that he's about to share this with Cas, too, Dean strums idly with a tremor in his fingers, heartbeat picking up in a nervous staccato.

"I taught myself," Dean offers as a disclaimer before picking out the chords to Jane's lullaby. "No making fun." When he finally looks at Castiel, the man's eyes are bright, yielding to Dean's words.

"You have my word," he says, and with that Dean begins to play.

_My sweet lady Jane_

_When I see you again_

_Your servant am I_

_And will humbly remain_

_Just heed this plea, my love_

_On bended knees my love_

_I pledge myself to lady Jane_

_My dear lady Anne_

_I've done what I can_

_I must take my leave_

_For promised I am_

_This play is run, my love_

_Your time has come, my love_

_I pledge my troth to lady Jane_

_Oh, my sweet Marie_

_I wait at your ease_

_The sands have run out_

_For your lady and me_

_Wedlock is nigh my love_

_Her station's right my love_

_Life is secure with Lady Jane_

 


	8. Chapter 8

As soon as Jane's bedroom door is closed, Castiel is crowding Dean up against the wall in the dimly lit hallway and sliding their mouths together.

"You're incredible," he mutters against Dean's mouth, hands finding Dean's hips just before he drags them flush.

"So the guitar does it for you, huh?" Dean asks, voice full of cheek.

Castiel kisses his way up Dean's jaw, nosing at the sensitive spot just behind his ear before tugging gently at his earlobe. " _You_ do it for me," he amends, and the words send warmth pooling in Dean's gut. He does it for Cas. Him. Dean Winchester.

Dean means to respond, but Castiel's fingers are toying with the hem of his shirt now, pushing up underneath it where they slide up Dean's torso, setting all his nerve endings on fire.  

"There's still laundry," Dean finally manages. "And dishes, and-"

Castiel hushes him with a kiss, quieting not only Dean's words but his gently frayed nerves as well. "It will keep, Daddy." He says, "Right now it's time for me to put you to bed. You've had a long week, and you need your rest. Doctor's orders."

To say that Dean follows Cas down the hall willingly would be an understatement.

In his room, Castiel pushes Dean into the adjoining bathroom, pulling his clothes off piece by piece and letting them fall to the ground in a quiet rustle. "You need a tub," Cas announces, starting the shower before ridding himself of his own clothes.   

"Thought that's why I've got you around," Dean grins at the man. "You and that fancy ass house of yours with the jet tub you promised me there'd be a next time for."

Castiel nods, guiding Dean into the shower with the gentle prod of his fingertips at the small of Dean's back. "You make a fair point," he says. "And speaking of next time, I believe you owe me some time with those sexy abs of yours."

They're under the spray now, gloriously hot water landing on Dean's back in a steady rhythm, and he smiles lazily at the man standing across from him. "Thought you were putting me to bed, doc."

"I am," Castiel explains. "It's a very thorough process."

"Are you gonna sing me a lullaby, too?"

Cas smirks at Dean, running a hand through Dean's sopping hair until it stands on end. "No, I'm going to give you massage so that you're nice and relaxed, and then I'm going to fuck you long and deep until your body is useless until well into morning."

Color blotches Dean's chest and neck, arousal burning hot and exciting in his veins. He can feel himself hardening between his legs, can feel Cas' body responding in a similar fashion, and he drags Cas in for a kiss, pushing his tongue into Cas' mouth and slotting their hips together.

"Best. Doctor. Ever," he mumbles.

 ~

Castiel makes good on his promise - better than good, really - kneading at Dean's back, and shoulders, thighs, and ass until Dean's body is nothing but pudding. He's face down, breathing hard, cock leaking pre-come, and Cas hasn't even properly touched him yet. But then he's there, opening Dean up slowly with his fingers, and his tongue, and there are tears leaking out of Dean's eyes, dripping into the sheets as he pleads breathlessly with the other man.

"Cas, baby, _please_."

Without any hesitation, Castiel is there, pressing into Dean, deeper, deeper, deeper until Dean can't hold back the cry that's been building in his throat. Cas feels so perfect inside him, better than Dean remembers, and there's no way in heaven or hell he's ever letting the guy go again.

"You're stuck with me," Dean blubbers. "Y'hear me? _Stuck_. Never lettin' you go."

Castiel drapes himself over Dean then, moving inside him in long, sweeping movements. He slips his fingers into the spaces between Dean's where they're clutched in the sheets, squeezing tight. "I'm not stuck, Dean," Castiel assures him. "I _choose_ you. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. I will always choose you."

And that's it, really, the words he's needed to hear maybe always. Sammy's his brother, he's stuck with Dean. Sarah's Sam's wife, she's stuck, too. And Charlie, well. Dean figures the two of them have got way too much dirt on one another for either of them to be anything but stuck. But Cas. Cas has been a part of his and Jane's life for less than a week, and he's already carved himself a place in their hearts.

 _I think I'm in love with you,_ Dean thinks, and instead of the terror he expects to feel with the admission, he's filled with a quiet sense of _right_. He's got no fucking clue what will happen between the two of them, but he does know this feels bigger than he ever imagined. Sure he's got doubts, and he's got fears, but somehow knowing Cas will be there to hold his hand through it all makes his insecurities seem moot.

Cas is breathing harder now, bending to bite at the back of Dean's neck and pepper the skin there with kisses. He moves faster inside of Dean, pushing into him in deep, focused thrusts.

"Dean," Cas mutters, breath warm and wet between Dean's shoulder blades.

"Yeah, Cas, c'mon sweetheart. Come for me. I'm yours." Dean's got no idea what the fuck's coming out of his mouth, but he knows he means it, every single word.

And it seems to work for Cas because he slams into Dean one last time before he's pumping his release inside of him, breathing hotly into the crook of Dean's shoulder, hips stuttering minutely of their own accord. "Mine," Cas repeats, like he can't believe it's true.

Dean smiles into his pillow. "All yours, babe."

After a moment, Castiel slides out of Dean slow and careful. He maneuvers Dean to his back, taking his arousal in hand and pumping Dean with a tight fist. It only takes a few strokes, he was already on the brink himself, but god Cas' hand on him feels so good and Dean sees stars as his orgasm wracks through him.  

When he peels his eyes open, Castiel is there, blinking down at him, one hand on Dean's chest, the other braced just beside Dean's ear. "You're a mess." His offering smile is loose and happy.

"You did say you wanted me useless until morning." Dean points out, hand sliding over where Cas' fingers are pressed against his heart. "Think it's safe to say your procedure was a success." He's still smiling when he closes his eyes, can hear Cas chuckle above him.

"I can see that," Castiel says, and then the room is dark, and Dean is warm.

**:::**

"So what was with you and that Balthazar guy back in high school?"

There's a basket of half-folded laundry between them, the television a low murmur in the background. They'd put Jane down for a nap about twenty minutes prior, and though Dean wants to do nothing more than spend the next two hours exploring Cas' body, there's an apartment to maintain and a little girl’s laundry to do.

Castiel - who has yet to go home from the night before, now clad in a pair of Dean's jeans and one of his old band tees - is all too happy to help.

"Nothing."

"What do you mean nothing? C'mon, Cas, I told you the Rhonda Hurley stuff, you gotta give me something."

Cas doesn't look away from the TV to respond, carefully folding a pair of Jane's leggings into a neat, little square. "There's nothing to give you, Dean. Nothing happened."

"Did you want something to happen?"

"No," Castiel says, glancing over at Dean. "He asked me out once, but I turned him down. We stayed friends for a while, but I haven't heard from him in a very long time."

"I knew it!" Dean shouts, clapping Castiel on the back. "You were a heartbreaker!"

Castiel huffs at him, shaking his head. "Hardly."

"I mean it, Cas. You were the sexiest guy at our school." He has Cas' full attention now. He's frowning, but he's paying attention.

"That is absolutely ridiculous," Cas says.

Dean pulls another pair of jeans from the basket and shakes them out, draping them over a hanger. "I'm serious. Do you know how many people wanted to fuck you?"

"I find that difficult to believe," Castiel grumbles.

Dean barks a laugh. "That's what made you so sexy, Cas. You didn't even know it. But you were that guy that was unconventionally hot, and everyone talked about doing you behind your back. Trust me, man, I know what I'm talking about."

"Did you talk about doing me behind my back?" There's curiosity burning in Castiel's eyes now.

"No," Dean admits. "It didn't feel right talking about you that way. I wanted to do more than just do you. But I might have jacked off thinking about you once or twice." And apparently, Dean's just going to spill all his dirty little secrets to Cas because who the hell gives a flying fuck about dignity? But Castiel doesn't say anything. He does pause with a pair of tiny green socks in his hands, jaw clicking as his mouth closes into a smile. The dirty bastard's probably thinking about it.

When Cas doesn't say anything for a beat, Dean pushes the basket out of the way and cozies up to Cas' side, nosing along his jaw and sliding a hand around the man's waist. "You're not gonna ask what I thought about while I got off?" he asks. The laundry is mostly done anyway. Surely, it won't go anywhere if the two of them get sidetracked for a half hour or so, right?

Castiel folds the socks together, not looking at Dean. His cheeks are flushed though, which means he's not completely unaffected.

"Seriously, Cas? You're not even a little bit curious?"

"I didn't think-" Cas' voice is rough. He stops to clear his throat. Dean smirks. "I didn't think it would be polite."   

Dean turns Cas' face towards his own, drags him in for a kiss. "Wasn't nothing polite about it. If you catch my drift."

Castiel rolls his eyes. "You're terrible."

"Whatever, I'm fucking hilarious."

"Dean," Cas says, tracing Dean's bottom lip with his thumb, pressing down when he reaches the plush middle. "Stop talking." He leans in again, capturing Dean's lips and kissing him roughly.

Dean pushes forward, driving Castiel to his back, the laundry basket tumbling to the ground. Castiel blinks up at him when Dean's leaning over him.

"Fine. I won't tell you." Dean pauses for effect, shooting a half smile at Cas when he sees the barest hint of disappointment crossing his features. "I'll show you."

If Castiel had anything to say after that Dean didn't get to hear it.

~

Somehow, even with the impromptu round of sex Dean swore they weren’t going to have, they manage to finish the laundry and get the dishwasher loaded before Jane wakes up. She stumbles into the kitchen bleary-eyed, and frowning, and headed straight for Castiel.

"Looks like somebody's got a new favorite," Dean mutters, reaching for his phone when it flashes with a new message.

Castiel swings Jane into his arms. "We bonded over bumblebees," he explains. He runs a hand over Jane's silky curls and kisses the top of her head, swaying to some unheard song.

Dean smiles at the pair of them. "Traitors," he says before reading the message.

_Sam: Free for dinner around six? We have some news._

_Charlie: I'll be there._

Dean smiles down at his phone. He's going to be an uncle. **We'll be there, too.** He responds, **Plus one. ;)**

“Looks like we're expected for dinner at Sam's tonight," Dean says, looking up from his phone. There's a knot of worry in his chest that eases with Castiel's easy agreement to go.

“Who's going to be there?”

“Everyone,” Dean says before elaborating, “Sam, his wife Sarah, Charlie, Jane and me.”

Cas' eyes twinkle when he responds. “So I'm meeting the family.”

Dean's stomach flips, and he smiles loosely at the other man. “Technically you already did, but if you wanna be on the nose about it, yeah, I guess you are. But if it's too soon-”

Castiel cuts Dean off with a brief kiss on the lips, maneuvering Jane against his hip so she isn't squashed between them. “What time do we need to be there?” he asks, and Dean can't help but smile again.  

**:::**

Charlie's already at Sam and Sarah's when they get there. Her eyebrows hit her hairline when Castiel steps out of the car after Dean, but a smile is quick to follow, and she pulls Castiel in for a hug and doesn't comment on the awkward way he returns it.

“Why didn't you tell me you were bringing Cas?” Sam asks, pushing Dean towards the grill. He'd gotten as far as kissing Sarah on the cheek when Sam pulled him through the back door and pressed a pair of barbecue tongs into his hands. Dean rolls his eyes, surveying his brother's work before poking at a piece of chicken.

“I said plus one.”

“I thought you meant a girl or something,” Sam admits. He reaches for the cooler next to the grill and pulls out a sweating beer bottle. It's still fogging when he hands it over to Dean.

Dean takes a pull from the bottle before he responds. “I meant a _Cas_ or something,” he says. “We're uh-” when the right words don't come, Dean shrugs. “Yeah,” he finishes.

“When did this happen?” Sam's grin is wide, and Dean can practically see the ring of hearts, and stars, and Cupid's arrows floating around his brother's head.

“Our fifteen-year reunion?” Dean offers, sheepish. He never did get around to giving Sam the details of what had happened that night, not that he ever intended to. But he also never intended to run into Cas again or to fall in love with the guy. “But really since the farmer's market, I guess.”

Sam raises his eyebrows, “You've had a busy week.” Dean chuckles.

“You have no idea.”

It's at that moment that Castiel joins them, stepping through the back door and closing it against the laughter spilling out of the room just beyond. He meets Dean's gaze and smiles.

“Hello,” he says.

“Hi,” Dean says back, heart fluttering.

Sam clears his throat. “I'm gonna go check on the-” he hefts a thumb over his shoulder towards the door. “Don't burn that,” he tells Dean, pointing at the shish kabobs now resting on the grill beside the chicken.

“Says the man who can't even run his own grill,” Dean mutters, watching Sam clap a hand on Cas' shoulder as he passes him on the deck.

Taking advantage of their newfound privacy, Castiel moves in to press a kiss to Dean's lips. “I made macaroni salad,” he says, smile proud.

“One thing you can never count on around here is for dinner to actually be ready when you're told it will be.”

“It was no problem,” Castiel counters, resting a hip against the grill and watching Dean prod at chicken and vegetables. “I don't mind helping.”

“Are you this easy going with everything in life?” Dean questions, passing Castiel his beer and feeling beyond grateful for the way Castiel has slid into his life, like there was always a space for him to begin with.

“No,” Castiel states. He takes a swig of the beer before continuing. “I'm very particular about the organization of my closet, I'm incredibly high strung when I'm around my mother, and I worry frequently about the rapid decline of the world's bee population.”

“Okay, so just the bigger things in life.”

Cas moves in closer, drawing Dean's gaze from the grill and holding it with his own heated blue eyes. “There is nothing small about a color-coordinated closet, Dean.”

Dean hooks an arm around the other man's waist. “Color coordinated, huh?” he asks.

“Shoes and all.”

Dean pulls him in for another kiss, a bit longer than the first. When they pull apart, his head is spinning, and he can’t stop grinning, _goddamnit_.

~

They're gathered around the dinner table when Sam and Sarah make the big announcement about Sarah's pregnancy. Sarah glows as she gives them the details and answers all their questions, and Sam, though beaming, has the tell-tale look of a terrified dad-to-be.

And they're halfway through dessert when Jane makes _her_ big announcement.

“Daddy sayed Tas is his pwince, an’ dat Tas is go'n be my new daddy,” she says, hot fudge smudged from one corner of her mouth to another. It's a rarity she gets dessert like this, so when she does, she goes at it with vigor.

Dean chokes on the ice cream sliding down his throat in a frozen lump. He pounds on his chest a few times, eyes watering. “I did _not_ say that,” he sputters.  He looks to Cas, desperately, and repeats himself. “I did not say that.”

“Then what did you say, Dean?” Sam asks. He always was the shit stirrer in the family.

Sarah and Charlie are giggling, there's a smile on his brother's face, but all Dean feels is heat. Lots of heat, in his chest, and on his neck, and in his cheeks. All over really.

“I just said-” he trails off, grasping for a suitable explanation where there technically isn't one. “It's because of that damn penguin book,” he blurts, eyeing Sam.

“ _And Tango Makes Three_?”

Dean nods, probably a little too quickly for his own good. “We were talking about Cas, and the book came up.”

“The book about the baby penguin with two dads,” Sam says, smug as can be, and Dean would have no shame in slugging his brother right in the teeth if it came to that.

Jane, oblivious to the trouble she's caused, smiles and nods. “Yeah! He sayed 'stead of a mommy dered be two dads: Daddy an’ Tas.”

“I didn't-” Dean takes a deep breath, clearing his throat before shooting his daughter an overly saccharine smile. “Sweetheart, please stop talking,” he says, but Jane just blinks her gigantic green eyes at him and smiles.

“You wook pwetty, daddy,” she says. “Yo' cheets are pin’.”

At that Sam lets out a loud guffaw, slapping his hand on the table and throwing his head back in laughter. Sarah and Charlie are barely keeping themselves together, and Castiel is mildly spooning ice cream into his mouth, smiling gently around his spoon. Dean buries his face in his hands, shaking his head.

“Goddamnit.” He mutters, “I hate you all.”

When everyone has finally decided to leave Dean the fuck alone, he turns to Castiel, privately.

“I did not tell Jane you were going to be her new dad,” he says, voice more firm. He glances at the rest of his family out of the corner of his eye, reassuring himself none of them are paying any attention. “We had a discussion about you and me, but it's not like I'm writing Mr. Dean Novak on my science binder when you aren't around.”

Cas leans in close, pressing their lips together. “I thought we'd hyphenate: Winchester-Novak.” He offers easily, eyes twinkling.

“This really doesn't freak you out?” Dean asks.

“No, does it freak you out?”

And that's a question Dean already knows the answer to. “It freaks me out that I'm not freaked out,” he says, honestly.

Cas smiles, pecking him on the lips. “Good. Because I've really grown accustomed to the sound of our last names together. And Jane was right. You do look pretty.”

**:::**

Castiel doesn't go home until the following afternoon.

“You know you can stay,” Dean tells him as they're curled around one another in the doorway. “I was thinkin' grilled cheese for lunch, and there's a Deep Space Nine marathon on right around Jane's nap time. That's some prime make-out time right there.”

Cas is smiling against Dean's mouth, hands fitting themselves to Dean's hips. “I have animals to feed,” he mutters, “and a first day of work to prepare for.”

“And you're gonna choose all that over the Love Cocoon of Bliss?” Dean scoffs.

“Daddy, what's a Wove Totoon of Bwiss?” Jane questions around her pacifier, toddling up to the two of them and blinking up at Dean. Dean pulls away from Cas long enough to lift Jane into his arms.

“Something we don't talk about outside this room,” Dean tells her, smiling when Castiel leans in to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Yes, because that's a better strategy than clearing up the strong probability of misconception before it spirals out of control,” Castiel quips, tapping Jane on the nose with the tip of his finger as his gaze meets Dean's above her head. “Have you learned nothing from last night's dinner Mr. Winchester-Novak?”

“Okay, Hotshot, why don't you take lead on this one?” Dean suggests. His whole face feels hot at the sound of his and Cas' last names rolling together like that, and Cas looks pleased as punch about it, the smug asshole. Handing Jane over to the other man when she reaches for him, Dean smiles as she wraps her arms around his neck and squeezes tight, giggling when Castiel drums his long fingers against her ribs. “Tell her what a Love Cocoon of Bliss is.”

“It's a Happy Bubble,” Castiel explains, eyes meeting Jane's.

Jane cocks her head to one side. “A Ha’y Bubbo?”

“Yes,” Cas confirms. “It's a place where you feel incredibly happy and like nothing in the world can hurt you or make you sad.”

“Wike if we wived in Tandy Wand?” Jane wonders.

Cas smiles at her, nodding. “Exactly like that,” he tells her. “Do you understand?”

Jane's smiling back now, two sweet curves peeking out either side of her binky. “Me'n daddy are your Ha’y Bubbo,” she confirms.    

“That's right,” Castiel says then looks at Dean. “You are.”


	9. Chapter 9

Cas' first day of work comes complete with a squinty-eyed selfie of him in royal blue scrubs and the same cat patterned scrub cap Dean remembers seeing when he web-stalked Cas right after the reunion.

 **I told Sarah to tell the other kids to be nice to you.** Dean types in response before saving the picture of Castiel to an album on his phone. The guy is pretty horrible at taking pictures of himself, but he's still a gorgeous fucker.

After that, there's mostly radio silence from Cas aside from the random updates here and there about what he ate for lunch or how incredible hearts are. The updates are basically useless information, but they keep Dean smiling all day.

 _I think I may have toilet paper stuck to my shoe,_ Cas texts late in the afternoon.

_Either that or I sat in something and no one has been brave enough to tell me._

**What?** Dean asks, frowning at his phone.

_Every time I walk past the nurse's station they all giggle at me._

Dean chuckles to himself. **They're definitely looking at your butt** , he types back.

_No, they aren't._

**Yeah, babe. They are. I would be. ;)**

_Is that a flirtation?_

**If it is will you send me nudes?**

_Absolutely not._

**Not even a little peek?**

_Where's your sense of mystery Mr. Winchester-Novak?_

**So you're saying you wouldn't want me to send you nudes?**

_That is not what I'm saying, no._

Dean smiles at his phone, biting his lip as he shoots off a final response. **I see how you are.** His eyes are still on the screen when the door opens and the familiar sound of Sam's shoes click across the cement.

“Say 'hi' to Cas for me,” he says by way of greeting.

“Who says it's Cas?” Dean asks, shooting a frown at his brother as he pockets his phone. It's weird how out of place Sam looks in his own garage, but then there are wood shavings and power tools all over the place and Sam - Mr. Fancypants - is in a lavender button-down and charcoal pinstripe slacks.

Ignoring Dean's failed attempt at denial, Sam rests himself against an unstained dresser Dean has yet to get to. “Is it serious?” Sam's hands are jammed in his pockets, his legs crossed at the ankles, and he looks relaxed, like he just asked a question about the weather, but Dean's heart stutters in his chest.

He slaps some wood glue on one end of a piece of wood then fits it to another, scanning the edges to make sure the two pieces rest flush against each other. He can have this conversation with Sam, he can. He just doesn't need to be looking at the Sasquatch to have it. “He came to family dinner didn't he?”

“And he seems to have bonded with Jane already,” Sam points out.

“Yeah, so.”

“So I'm just asking, Dean. You guys are acting like this is no big deal when not a month ago you were asking me to hook you up with Hot British Chick from work.”

Dean chuckles at the title Poor Hot British Chick From Work has garnered. Dean saw her once, okay, heard her talking for a split second, and she'd been known as Hot British Chick ever since.

“Okay, A) that was a lot longer than a month ago, and 2) what do you want me to say, Sam? I'm falling in love with him? He's it for me?”

Sam's smiling now, all-knowing and annoying. He always has been a huge know-it-all. “You don't have to say anything, Dean, I'm just real happy for you,” he says, fluttering his eyelashes before heading for the door. “You and Jane's new dad make a great couple.”

“I will shoot you in the foot!” Dean shouts after his brother, brandishing his nail gun in the air. Sam's answering laugh sounds just as the door shuts behind him.

When Dean checks his phone several minutes later, he's met with a picture of Cas' scrub top pulled up over his ribs revealing his bare torso and a nipple and a message that reads, _This is probably a terrible idea, but I believe it's your turn now._

And that is Dean's cue to be done with work for the day.

**:::**

He doesn't see Cas  again – well in person anyway – until Castiel picks Dean and Jane up for a picnic at the park. They secure Jane's extra car seat in the back of Cas' car and drive with the windows down as Dean fiddles with the radio, and Cas accuses Dean of messing up his stations.

For being such a beautiful spring day, the park is mostly bare, more butterflies and ladybugs in sight than people. The three of them wander along the paved path amiably, stopping only at Jane's request when she finds a sea of dandelions.

“You haveta mate a wish,” she tells Castiel as he crouches to accept a flower. “And den ya bwow.”

Dean watches as Castiel dutifully shuts his eyes for a beat then opens them again and blows at the delicate seeds clinging to the stem. Jane giggles gleefully as she turns and watches the little white puffs fly into the air, scattering themselves among the hollyhocks just a few paces away and the oak trees beyond them.

“What'd you wish for?” Dean asks when they're on their way again. He links his fingers loosely with Cas' and doesn't move away when they're shoulders bump.

Cas leans in, lips brushing Dean's ear. “It's a secret,” he whispers, sending shivers along Dean's shoulders. At that point Dean probably would've found the first flat surface and thrown Castiel against it – it's been a long week without the guy – but Jane was right there and some lady walking her dog on the opposite side of the trail from them, so swatting Cas' butt will have to do for the time being.

“Asshole,” Dean mutters.

Cas' answering grin is one of pure satisfaction.

~

They find a shady corner by the pond and split peanut butter and honey sandwiches (compliments of Castiel) and sip at lemonades from a can. The sun filters in through the branches of the tree looming over them, casting pretty shadows on Cas' cheekbones and nose. Jane's straddled over his lap, shoving a potato chip into his mouth and laughing when he chomps at it obnoxiously. Dean smiles, chest warm and a content fluttering feeling right behind his breastbone.

 _I love you_ , he thinks, and it's easy. Three words that movies make it seem like are supposed to feel life-changing, like mountains are moving and seas are parting, but when Dean thinks them, when he _feels_ them, it's not earth-shattering at all. It's quiet. Like dandelion seeds being blown into the wind.

“Daddy, tan I doe pway in da water?”

Dean's brain refocuses, the warm, happy feeling in his chest intensifying when he looks at Jane. “Yeah, baby, I'll take you down there.”

~

At the water's edge, Jane takes off looking for smooth rocks for Dean to skip, stepping carefully around ducks and bushes as she goes.

“What are you thinking about over there?” Castiel asks, sliding a hand in Dean's back pocket and pulling him close. Dean's cheeks are on fire as he studies the tide rippling at their feet, the constant gentle movement of it reminding him of Cas.

“You,” Dean admits.

“Have I ever told you,” Cas mutters, lips grazing Dean's earlobe, “how cute you are?”

Dean scoffs at that, shaking his head. “Nothing cute about me, sweetheart, I think the word you're looking for is 'studly'.”

“Like I said, cute.” His lips brush Dean's neck before he pulls away, and Dean feels cold without the other man pressed right up against him. He's about to protest when a scream pierces the air, drawing their attention to where Jane is lying in the rocks, tears spilling over her cheeks.

Dean sees blood and runs.

~

“We're almost there, Dean.”

Cas' voice from the front seat of the car sounds far away in Dean's ears. He feels sick to his stomach as he pulls the picnic blanket away from Jane's forehead to examine the blood still oozing out in a thick metallicy flow.

“Hear that, baby girl? We're almost there,” Dean’s voice is gruff, wooden-sounding in his ears, but he forces a smile when his daughter blinks up at him.

A handful of seconds. That's all it had taken for Jane to slip on the rocks and fall headfirst on the shoreline earning herself a pretty decent gash streaking across her left brow bone.

Jane sucks furiously at her pacifier, whimpering through the pain. She's a tough girl, she stopped crying several minutes beforehand, but the fact that Dean can't do anything for her other than offer his moral support kills him inside.

Pulling into the hospital parking lot Castiel finds the closest spot and swings into it with practiced ease. “Follow me,” he says, stepping out of the car.

Dean makes quick work of getting Jane out of her carseat while making sure there's still pressure on her wound and carries her into the hospital behind Cas. At the front desk, Castiel flashes his badge and leads them down a short hallway and into a room, closing the door behind them.

“Let's take a look,” he says. His voice is serious but gentle, and there's a difference in his persona now, a little less flirty, and a little more doctor-y.

Dean relaxes a hair as he settles Jane onto the table in front of Castiel.  

With deft fingers Castiel assess the wound, asking Jane questions about how many ducks she saw at the pond, and whether or not she thinks their dandelion seeds have landed yet. “Have you ever had stitches before?” he questions, cleaning the dried blood around the site and moving to gather a few supplies.

“No,” Jane says, biting her bottom lip. She's watching him nervously, tracking every move he makes, and Dean offers her her pacifier, grateful when some of the tension eases out of her tiny shoulders once it's in her mouth.

Cas turns back to them now, a small silver tray tinkling with a few tools. “What about your father? Has he ever had stitches?” Cas settles onto a rolling chair with no back and rests the tray at Jane's hip.

“Ha’e you?” Jane questions, looking at Dean.

“Uh, yeah, few times actually,” Dean tells her. “The doctors that stitched me up were never as cute as yours though.”

Cas shoots him a private smile, and Jane smiles, too. “I'm gon' dit stitches wike daddy?” she asks Castiel, frowning when he swipes at her forehead with an antiseptic wipe.

“Just like daddy,” Castiel agrees.

“Ha’e you had dem?” Jane wonders.

Cas nods, humming his answer. “Right here,” he says. He points to a thin scar on his upper lip, one Dean's not even sure he's noticed before. “My neighbor's dog ran a cat up a tree, and I climbed the tree in an attempt to save the cat. Before I got to him, I lost my balance and fell.”

“All da way to da dround?” Jane questions, eyes wide.

“All the way,” Cas confirms. He alters back and forth between asking Jane random questions to distract her and humming Lady Jane when there's a lull in the conversation. All in all, it only takes him a few minutes and Jane doesn't shed a tear, but Dean holds his breath the whole time.

“Woo’ at my stitches, Daddy,” Jane says when Castiel has finished. She tilts her head in Dean's direction so he can examine Cas' work.

“Lookin' pretty tough there, baby,” he tells her, pressing a kiss just beside the stitches.

“I think her bravery should be rewarded with a treat,” Castiel says, washing his hands and disposing of his tools. “What do you say, Dean?”

“Smoothie?” Dean asks, cocking a brow at Jane. Her face brightens with a smile, and she nods.

"I think," Cas says, tugging Jane off the exam table and settling her on his hip. "It's time for you to meet Uncle Gabriel."

"Unca Dabriel?"

Dean groans, shaking his head. "You really wanna expose my daughter to that madman?" he jokes.

"Laughter is the best medicine," Castiel offers.

~

Shuffling over the glossy wooden floors of Gabriel's coffeeshop, Dean's eyes are drawn to the corner he and Cas had sat nestled in not too long ago.

Now the chairs are overrun by a couple of teenagers sipping at their frothy drinks with eyes trained on their phones, but it still stirs something inside of Dean, and he smiles.

"Somebody's in our spot," he tells Castiel, nodding in the direction of the worn leather chairs. Cas follows his gaze, a smile ticking at his lips.

"Perhaps we can find a new 'spot,'" he says, "there are three of us now, after all."

And Dean was not planning on getting all sentimental in the middle of Cas' crazy uncle's coffeeshop, but, well. Here they are.

He follows Castiel to a table tucked against the wall, just as Gabriel approaches them.

"Bless my stars," Gabriel bellows. He's clutching his chest dramatically and batting his eyelashes at Dean. "That really you, Dean-o? Wasn't sure I'd see you again. And my you're even prettier than I remember."

"Are all your relatives this charismatic?" Dean grumbles at Castiel, setting Jane on the tabletop and bending over to tie her shoe.

Castiel reaches to tuck a lock of hair behind Jane's ear. "Gabriel this is Jane, Dean's daughter."

"Pleased to meet you, beautiful." Gabriel takes hold of Jane's hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss.

Jane blushes.

"What brings the happy couple in today?" Gabriel tucks a small round tray under his arm, folding his arms across his chest, winking at Jane when she peeks at him from under her lashes.

Castiel settles into the chair across from Dean's. "We have a very brave girl with us," he explains. "Jane, would you like to show uncle Gabriel what you got today?"

"I dot stitches, tus I fell." Jane points at the BB8 bandaid Cas had taped over the cut to keep it clean.

"Free drink alert!" Gabriel says with one hand curled around his mouth. Jane's eyes visibly brighten at the announcement, and she looks at Dean.

"Tell the man what you want, pipsqueak," Dean tells her with a grin, scooting her off the table and onto the chair next to him.

"Smoofie pwease," Jane states. "Wif bewies, an’ nanas."

Gabriel pulls a miniature notepad from the apron around his waist and scribbles on it without even looking. "One strawberry banana smoothie coming right up."

"Sugar-free," Castiel adds.

Gabriel nods and leaps into an awkward pirouette before disappearing behind the counter.

Dean stares at Castiel, eyebrows raised. "He didn't even ask us-"

Castiel shakes his head, gentle smile following his uncle. "He's taking care of Jane first," he explains. "He'll be back."

Dean purses his lips. Fine. But only because it’s Jane.

~

When Gabriel returns he's not only got Jane's smoothie in hand - a full strawberry and two banana slices garnishing the glass - but he's also got a gold, paper crown.

"A crown for the princess," he says, settling it on her head. "And a smoothie for her bravery."

Jane's beaming when she accepts the glass from him, eyeing the green straw poking out just above the surface.

"Da stwaw is my favwit tuwer!"

"Green is my favorite color, too," Castiel informs her, glancing at Dean with a wink. Fucking flirt.

~

With her smoothie in hand, Jane slurps happily, feet swinging below her, and chatters on and on about whatever it is that pops into her little mind.

Gabriel, the charming bastard, listens the whole time, entertaining her with magic tricks and terrible 'why did the chicken cross the road' jokes.

The guy may be pretty obnoxious, but he's a winner in Jane's book, and Dean's gotta give him credit for that.

~

Back at the apartment, Jane gives Castiel a hug goodbye and thanks him for stitching her up. “I'm go'n show Unca Sammy an’ Auntie Sawah tomorrow,” she tells him.

“Make sure to tell them how brave you were,” Castiel replies. He's smiling at her as she pushes open the door and wanders inside leaving Dean and Castiel alone on the doorstep.

“Hey,” Castiel says when he hears the muted sounds of the television coming from Dean's apartment. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just scared the shit outta me, you know? I looked away for two seconds, and-”

Cas pulls Dean into a hug, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist where Dean slots his face in the crook of Cas' neck.

“She's alright,” Castiel tells him, rubbing small circles on Dean's back. “You both did amazing today.”

Dean shudders a breath, nodding and allowing all the remaining tension that's been hanging around since Jane fell to seep out of him, going boneless against Castiel.

“Thank you.” He meets the other man's eyes and urges him forward for a kiss. His mouth moves a little desperately against Castiel's, but Cas' hands are there on Dean's cheeks, holding him and kissing him softly.

“She's alright,” Cas says again. It's quiet for a beat, the only sounds their mouths moving together and whatever show Jane's got going on in the background, and Dean lets that quiet envelope him, smooth over his nerves. When they pull apart, Dean clears his throat.

“Hey uh, at the park I was thinkin'.” He blinks down at his shoes, his body going cold right before a wave of heat rolls through him. “I was thinkin' I should probably tell you, I uh-”

When he looks up Castiel is frowning, brows pulled into a tight line of consternation. He looks terrified, anxious, and Dean smiles at him, hoping to ease the other man's concern.

“I was thinkin' I should let you know that I might be uh-” He scrubs a hand over his mouth. Dammit, why is this so hard? “I might be falling in love with you. A little bit.”

He looks up, meeting Cas' eyes waiting for some kind of response, _anything_ , and he almost thinks Cas is going to turn tail and run the other direction, but instead he backs Dean up against the wall and slots their mouths together, moving in deep and demanding.

Okay, so maybe Cas isn't going to be running away anytime soon.

“What have we gotten ourselves into,” Cas breathes into Dean's mouth when they pull apart for air.

Dean's answering grin is crooked. "I dunno, but I kinda like it."

Castiel's face is warm, crows feet forming at the corners of his eyes as he says, “Me, too.”

**:::**

_June_

“You know, you don't have to answer the phone when it's this early in the morning. I can always leave you a voicemail and you can call back when you're actually awake.” Cas sounds tired, but Dean can hear the softness in his tone, can almost see the little smile pulling up at the corners of his mouth.

“I figured if you're gonna make the effort to call, even though you just worked like a million hours straight, I'm gonna make the effort to answer,” Dean stifles a yawn with the back of his hand. “Even if it is the asscrack of dawn.”

“That's very romantic of you,” Castiel says. “But perhaps someday you should let it go to voicemail. You might have something very personal waiting for you when you do.”

“You gonna leave me a sexy voice message, Doctor Novak?” Dean asks, smile growing on his face. Cas is a hell of a lot kinkier than Dean had ever anticipated. Not that there's anything they've done that Dean hasn't been into, the ride has just been wild thus far.

“I sent you sexy pictures, didn't I?”

Dean chuckles, blushing deeply at the memory. The one he'd received at the shop, with Cas' shirt held up was only the beginning of what had turned out to be a thrilling string of picture messages with Cas wearing less and less clothing in each one. Dean had settled the score by sending a few of his own, and it had led to what has probably been his most enjoyable jack-off session in a very long time. “You sure did.”

He can hear when Cas moves past the automatic doors to the hospital and into the parking lot. The city is waking up around him, birds, and cars, and people creating a symphonic background.

“I'll probably be home today if you wanna stop by,” Dean tells him.

“Is everything alright?” Cas wonders seeing as just about the only thing Dean would ever miss work for is Jane. (And that includes the time he had walking pneumonia for a week.)

“We're okay,” Dean says, “Sarah just got called into work and wasn't sure when she'd be done.”

“Oh yes, I saw her come in just as I was leaving. But Dean, I can take Jane. I'm off twenty-four as of now.”

Next to him Jane shifts, rolling to her side and shoving her face in Dean's ribs. She'd come in at about four in the morning and made herself right at home. “Don't you need a break or I dunno, _sleep_? You just worked like five days straight.”

“It was only three, and I can sleep when she goes down for a nap. It's really no trouble, Dean. You should go to work. Leave little bug to me.”

Dean looks down at Jane, watching her for a beat before responding. “Yeah, okay. If you really think you're up for it.”

“You make her sound like some kind of heathen,” Cas chides.

“She can be.”

“I'll see you in an hour.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean repeats.

~

Dean is fidgety waiting for Castiel to arrive. Jane had been 100% on board, and it's not like he doesn't trust the guy; Cas knows Jane’s schedule, and how to monitor her diabetes, and has seen what her day-to-day looks like, but having his boyfriend – _boyfriend?_ \- babysit his daughter feels like some sort of _step,_ and he wonders if it’s too soon for all of that.

But then it's weird when Cas doesn't just walk in – knocking and standing on the stoop until Dean answers – and so maybe Dean's just analyzing things a little too closely.

“You sure this is okay?” Dean asks anyway, when Castiel steps through the door.

“Why wouldn't it be?”

Dean shrugs. “I dunno, you have a life? I get it if hanging out with a kid on one of your only days off in forever isn't the first thing on your to-do list.”

Cas shushes Dean and curls his fingers around Dean's wrist, pulling him close. “You're overthinking this,” Castiel murmurs into Dean's mouth. “I want to be here. I can't put it more plainly than that.”

“Yeah okay,” Dean breathes, letting out a breath. “Sorry.”

“You don't need to apologize, you just need to trust me,” Castiel tells him and then he's moving past Dean into the kitchen and fiddling with the percolator, easy as that.

“She'll probably want a bath after breakfast,” Dean says, splitting his sandwich in half and fitting it into a sandwich bag.

Castiel is propped against the countertop sipping at his coffee with half-lidded eyes, his long fingers curled around Dean's favorite mug. “She's into changing her clothes a bunch lately so don't be surprised if she wants to be Wonder Woman for about fifteen minutes and then puts on her galoshes and nightgown for an hour or two. I've just been rolling with it.”

He's rinsing off his breakfast dishes when he starts giving Castiel a verbal tour of the house, telling him where he can find Jane's pull-ups for nap time, and the treat cupboard if she wants a snack. “And she knows how to work the remote so you don't have to worry about that. If you-” He trails off when he finds himself bracketed by two arms, Cas' front pressed up close along his back and his lips right next to his ear.

“Dean, I did stay here for three days straight, or did you need a reminder of what it is we got up to in that time?”

Dean recalls to memory Cas' tongue down his throat, hot and demanding in the shower, Dean pushing Castiel into his sheets, sucking him down with vigor, Cas opening Dean up with so much care and precision he still thinks they need a repeat to make sure it really did happen the way he remembers it.

“I remember,” Dean supplies, hips shifting of their own accord. Cas is right up against him, zero space between them, and he can feel Cas respond in kind.

“Fuck,” Dean spits, spinning around and yanking Cas in by the ears. “If my daughter walks in while you're trying to seduce me, so help me-”

Cas kisses back with enthusiasm, smile playing on his lips. “I was keeping an eye out,” he tells Dean, taking a step back when they pull apart.

“Yeah, I'll bet you were,” Dean grumbles. He presses a quick kiss to Cas' lips then seeks out his daughter where he last left her, deep in the nest of pillows on his bed.

After he's told Jane goodbye, and Cas one more time, too, he's out the door and on his way to work, fingers tapping anxiously against the steering wheel.

~

About the time Dean's stomach starts to growl is when he realizes he left his lunch at home. He's on his way to Sam and Sarah's kitchen when his phone rings. It's Cas.

“How's it going,” Dean asks, washing his hands in the mudroom and kicking off his boots. He'll probably never fully rid himself of the lacquer and sawdust smell, but he definitely puts forth an honest effort.

“I'm thinking about giving up my career to be a stay-at-home dad,” Castiel offers. Dean can hear the grin in the other man's tone, and the tell-tale sign of butterflies is back in his chest.

“Yeah?” Dean asks.

“Jane and I have are having a lovely time together. Hold on, she wants to talk to you.”

A beat passes before Jane's voice sounds over the phone. “Daddy?”

Dean smiles, pulling open the pantry door and leaning against the door jamb. “Yeah baby girl,  you having a good time with Cas?”

“Dah,” Jane says, voice firm. “We painted our naiws an' he pwayed bumblebee wif me. An' he wed me fwee stories, an’ we took a nap in your bed.”

“Sounds like I'm missing out on all the fun.”

Jane lets out a little laugh. “Yeah. We're go'n eat wunch now.”

“Yeah?” Dean wonders. “Daddy's lookin' for something to eat, too.” To be perfectly honest there's not a whole lot of options in his brother's pantry, nothing that wouldn't take very long anyway, and Sam, the health freak, doesn't believe in convenient food like Pop Tarts or hot pockets, which doesn't leave Dean a lot to work with.

“Dean?” It's Cas again.

“Yeah, babe.”

“Will you please come open the door?”

Dean frowns, craning his head towards the direction of Sam and Sarah's front door. “The front door here?” he asks.

“No, Winchester,” Castiel deadpans, “the front door of somewhere else.”

Dean chuckles, shaking his head. “Okay, fuck. Lay off my balls.”

“You don't really want that,” Castiel points out.

“Okay, you're right, I really don't.” Dean makes his way through the house to the front door, pulling it open to find Castiel and Jane waiting for him on the doorstep, and dammit if Cas isn't a walking checklist of Dean's kinks he doesn't know what is.

Dean may have seen him this morning, soft worn t-shirt and a pair of low slung jeans, but now he's got Jane on his hip, aviators perched on his nose, hair an absolute mess, and goddamnit if there weren't G rated eyes in the immediate vicinity, Dean would definitely be getting up to some R rated activities with the man.

“Supwise!” Jane shouts, throwing her arms up above her head. There's a brown paper bag in her hand, Dean's forgotten lunch he assumes, and it looks fuller than it did this morning.

Dean welcomes them in.  

The three of them gather around the dining table, Jane strapped into her booster seat at the head of the table, and Dean and Cas on either side of her. Castiel pulls out three sandwiches and a plastic bag stuffed full of potato chips and hands them out.

“We figured you'd be hungry about now,” Cas explains, handing Dean a bottle of water. “Jane suggested we bring you your lunch.”

“Well Jane wins the prize for having the best idea of the day,” Dean says, winking at his daughter and tearing into his sandwich. “Did you help Cas make some more sandwiches?”

“He wet me do da jewy a’by myself.”

Dean turns his attention to Cas, eyeing the pink globbed all over his nails, bits of glitter catching the light just right and making his nails sparkle. “Nice nails,” Dean tells him, smiling around a bite of peanut butter and jelly. “Must have a very talented manicurist.”

“I believe she prefers the term 'nail _artist,_ ' Dean. Her work is art after all.”

“Is that it, sweet pea?” Dean asks Jane, stuffing a few chips in his mouth. “Are you an artist?”

Jane nods proudly. “He hewd bery still,” she explains. “An' wook at mine.” She waves her fingers in Dean's face, precise blue polish covering her nails.

“Wow, Cas did that?” Dean's actually kind of impressed. The last time he tried to do Jane's nails she ended up looking like she got in a fight with a bottle of nail polish and lost (much like Cas' do now). But Cas isn't half bad at it.

Castiel shrugs, chewing on a bite of sandwich. “I have steady hands,” he offers.

“Well while you're thinking about changing careers, maybe you should give nail artistry a go,” Dean says, smile all cheek when he flashes it at Castiel. Cas responds by tapping his foot against Dean's ankle, sending an interested pulse through Dean's nether regions.

~

“Alright, I'll make dinner when I get home, okay? Around six.”

Cas and Jane are making their way out the door. “Somefin’ dewishis?” Jane asks, hand swallowed by Cas' as they make their way down the walkway.

“Something super delicious,” Dean calls back to her. He watches them drive away and has a hard time not counting down the hours before he can head home after that.


	10. Chapter 10

Jane's shifting on the wooden porch anxiously, bouncing from one foot to the other and humming under her breath. The miniature plastic purse she insisted on bringing is clutched tightly in her grasp, making a soft tinkling noise every time she jostles it. She's seen plenty of Castiel as of late – between how often Cas has dinner with them and the handful of times he's ended up watching Jane while Dean worked – but it's always been on her own turf. However, as soon as Cas had told her he had the makings of a small farm growing in his backyard, she'd begged to see it. Dean figured it was about time they spent time at Cas' anyway.

“Daddy, will Tas let me pet a chiten?” she wonders, blinking up at him with eyes wide.

Dean swipes a hand over his daughter's auburn hair, brushing it out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. “I guess that's up to the chicken, huh?” He replies with a smile.

Jane smiles back, nodding. "I be bery tareful."

When Castiel lets them in, he looks windswept and gorgeous, hair an absolute mess, and the number of late nights and early mornings showing themselves on his unshaven jaw.

“What a beautiful purse,” Castiel says when he glances down at Jane. She beams up at him, eyelashes fluttering with pride.

“Daddy says I bedder haind onto it so I don' woose it,” she informs him, voice matter of fact.

Castiel nods. “Then, we shall keep a good eye on it.”

Jane nods, too, and then Cas' eyes are on Dean. “Hey,  you,” he says, leaning in to peck Dean on the lips.

Dean smiles – against his will, really, because the guy's just saying 'hello' for fuck's sake, no reason to smile like a goon over it – and slips his fingers into the hair at the base of Cas' neck.

“Hey you, yourself,” he mutters, and maybe he would have held Cas close just a little longer, but he's got a daughter dying to see some chickens.

Cas' backyard is just as Dean remembers it to be: organized chaos. Jane makes quick friends with the goat, Esther, and spends a good half hour chasing the chickens around their coop and letting them peck food right out of her open palm.

“She seems to be enjoying herself,” Cas says, coming up behind Dean and hooking his chin over Dean's shoulder. Jane's settled on the ground now, giggling as a silkie chicken hops up onto her leg and nestles itself against her hip.

“She's like Doctor Dolittle, man. We have yet to meet an animal that didn't instantly love her. She'd sit in there for hours if we'd let her.”

Cas loops an arm around Dean's waist, slipping his fingers up under Dean's shirt and skimming along the bare skin there. “Are you hungry?” he questions, smiling against Dean's cheek when his skin jitters at Cas' touch.

“I could eat.”

Cas lets out a laugh. “You could always eat.”

Dean huffs. “I'm a growing boy. I need my nutrients so I can grow big and strong.”

Cas' hand skims down Dean's abdomen, then catches on the waistband of his jeans, moving to cup Dean in his jeans. “You're no boy,” he grounds low in Dean's ear. Then he's gone, and Dean is sweaty and frustrated and his mouth is hanging open like a goddamn fish.

Dirty, fucking _horny_ bastard.

~

Castiel makes them tomato soup and grilled cheese for lunch, and it's after that Jane meets the kittens.  

“Der so tiny!” she squeals, nuzzling one against her cheek while another paws curiously at her chin. The third is sniffing cautiously at the hem of her jeans, body held back as far away from her as possible. “Wha’ are der names?” she asks Castiel, as he sits beside her, picking one up and smiling as it rubs its cheek against Cas' thumb.

“I haven't gotten around to naming them yet,” he tells her. “Perhaps you have some good suggestions for me?”

“We tan name dis one Charwotte. Wike da spi’er.” She's holding the tiny black one in the air for Cas to see.

“Charlotte,” Castiel repeats. “I like that.”

He reaches for the grey one, plucking it from Jane's lap and surveying it in his grasp. “What about Luna for her?” he asks. “She's the same color as the moon.”

“Hewo, Woona,” Jane coos at the kitten.

The third and final kitten has tortoise shell coloring, and Jane plops it in Dean's lap, eyes big and questioning. “You haven't named one yet,” she tells him.

Dean glances down at the ball of fur turning circles in his lap before collapsing into a miniature kitty donut. “What, this little dude?”

Jane nods.

“This one's called Cheeseburger,” Dean says, running the knuckle of his pointer finger down between the kitten's ears, drawing from it a deep, rumbling purr.

Jane's giggling, when she responds. “Teeseburder?”

“You heard me, kid,” Dean confirms. “Cheeseburger. That's his name, and I'm stickin' to it.”

“I believe that one's female,” Castiel offers from the ground, his eyes growing soft crinkles at their sides. Dean's heart beats double-time in his chest – no fair with the eye crinkles, Novak.

“Fine. That's _her_ name, and I'm stickin' to it.”

“Charwotte, Woona, and Teeseburder,” Jane recites, “now dey all ha’e names.”

“Indeed they do.”

~

They end up staying for dinner, too, and for an educational trip down SciFi lane for Cas who – much to Dean's dismay – has never seen Star Wars.

" _I'm cultured_ , he says," Dean mocks, pulling up his Amazon account.

“I know what it _is_ ,” Castiel says, pointedly. “Jedis, and the Force, and 'Luke I am your father,' I've just never actually seen the films. I never made the time.”

“Dude, you spend too much time at work,” Dean comments. He helps Jane put a bag of popcorn in the microwave, and they settle in for _A New Hope_.

~

The credits are rolling, and Jane's snoring gently on Dean's lap.

“With my luck, she'll sleep the whole way home and then be up for another four hours,” Dean mutters, brushing her hair away from her neck.

“You could stay,” Castiel suggests. "There's a bed made up upstairs.” His tone is neutral, but his eyes are begging Dean not to say no.

“As long as you're making breakfast in the morning. She's gonna expect the whole spread.”

“I've been told my waffles are praiseworthy,” Castiel replies, smug. The last time Dean'd had waffles in this house, they'd followed a very satisfying make out session in Cas' pantry and had preceded an ever better orgasm.

“Yeah, I think we're gonna have to do pancakes, Novak. I have yet to eat a waffle without thinking about you naked now.”

“That so?” Castiel asks, brow quirked, pleased.

Dean pulls Jane into his arms. “You're way too smug for your own good, y'know that?” His voice trembling ever so slightly. They may not be eating waffles, but they're talking about them, and now Dean's can’t stop replaying that night in his head. It must show on his face because Cas' expression has grown intrigued.

“I believe we should put our little bumblebee to bed,” Cas offers, standing as well. He winks at Dean, goddamnit, before leading him up the stairs.

They tuck her into the stark white sheets of the guest bedroom just down the hall from Cas’ room. The kittens follow them, blinking tired eyes as they hop and wiggle up the stairs, then sit at the side of the bed with tails swishing.

Jane pulls the collar of the T-shirt she's drowning in - pulled from Cas' closet - up over her nose, inhaling and relaxing against the mattress. “Smells wike Tas,” she mumbles, aimlessly reaching for a kitten and tucking it against her chest.

Castiel glances at Jane one last time, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then drags Dean across the room and out the door.

“Are we gonna have sex now?” Dean asks, trailing along behind Cas. “‘Cause it's been forever, and I might die if we don't.”

“It hasn't been forever; it's been three days, and you certainly will not die if we don't, but yes. We're going to have sex now.”

Dean lets out a breath. “Thank _god_.”

~

“You planned this, didn't you, you bastard?” Dean asks, fingers fumbling with the fly of his jeans as Castiel sucks dark marks into the more sensitive parts of his neck. Cas is naked already because he's a horny asshole who can strip faster than Dean can blink, but so far he's made no move to help Dean get naked too, the jerk.

Cas hums against him. “Planned what.”

“Getting Jane and me to stay so you can fuck me.”

“Actually, I thought you could fuck me tonight,” Castiel responds, voice casual but serious. It's not something they've done yet, gotten Cas on the receiving end of things, and Dean definitely doesn't mind taking one for the team, but it's been a question that's been brewing for a while now. Does Cas just prefer pitching? Or is there something else going on there?

“You want me to-”

“Yes,” Cas confirms. “I believe I'm ready.”

Dean holds Cas at arm's length, eyes scanning Cas' face, frown so deep he can feel it pulling between his brows. “Ready?” Dean asks. “You mind sharing what that means?”

“I've never-” Cas stops. His eyes find the floor for a beat before locking on Dean's again. “But I want to,” he finishes, and Dean's not going to push for an explanation, he doesn't need one. He's also not going to pass up the opportunity. He cups Cas' face in the palm of his hands, drawing the other man in to kiss him long and deep.

“I'll take care of you,” Dean assures him, voice husky.

Castiel nods. “I know.”

~

The sounds Cas makes as Dean opens him up are downright filthy, and when Dean strokes against that sweet spot deep inside of him, Cas' back arches off the bed, crying out in pleasure.

Dean might not last long enough to actually get up in Cas at the rate they're going.

But then Cas is taking three of Dean's fingers, breathy moans escaping him, his fingers digging into his thigh as he thrusts into open air.

“How you wanna do this, sweetheart?” Dean asks, kissing Cas' abdomen with a barely there press of his lips.

“On your back,” Cas breathes. His eyes are peeled open now, steeled with determination. “I want to ride you.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dean exhales.

~

Cas slides down Dean's length slowly, hands braced on either side of Dean's ears, and breath coming out in short, punctuated gasps. When he's completely full of Dean, he rocks back on his haunches, stilling on top of Dean, just breathing, eyes closed, and mouth hanging ajar.

“You okay?” Dean asks because if this isn't Cas' thing, Dean can support that. The fact that they tried at all is what means the most to him.

“I'm fine,” Castiel finally says, cheeks and chest flushing. “I was just feeling you. All of you. Dean, it's- I- Thank you,” he eventually decides on. His eyes are a deep navy now, and Dean feels like he can't breathe, like there's not enough air in the world to process how beautiful Castiel is like this.

“Hey,” Dean says, catching Cas' chin in his grasp. “I love you.” The words come out of nowhere, but saying them isn't an accident, they've been there all along, they just wouldn't stay inside any longer. “I love you so fucking much.”

Cas blinks down at him then, palming the back of Dean's head and molding their mouths together in a deep, claiming kiss.

 

When Cas is ready, Dean begins to move and all coherent thought is gone.

~

Castiel is grappling desperately at Dean's shoulders, chanting his name, eyes screwed tight in bliss when he comes. Dean holds him by the hips, steadying him as Cas' orgasm punches through him, a surprised 'O' claiming his lips. His chest is heaving, but when he peels his eyes open and blinks down at Dean, he's smiling.  

“I love _you_ ,” he says quietly, reaching a finger out to trace Dean's lips. “You and Jane, I love you both very much.”

Dean reaches up to push the sweaty curls from Cas' forehead. “I love you,” he says again because the feeling of loving someone the way he loves Castiel is too much to keep inside, and so it pushes and pushes until it's rolling off his tongue, manifesting itself in the form of three little words.

~

He doesn't remember when he actually slipped out of Cas, or how long the two of them remained wrapped around each other, but he'll never forget the way his whole body flushed with pure _joy_ when Cas said he loved Dean, too.

**:::**

Dean wakes up cold and alone. The furnace he'd had at his back all night has disappeared, and apparently, it took the covers with it. Just as Dean's resolving to lie there and freeze rather than find out where the hell Cas went, Castiel is back and so is his ridiculously fluffy down comforter.

“I'm sorry,” Cas coos quietly. “You're cold.” He kisses Dean's shoulder before pulling the comforter up and over him.

  

“You left,” Dean grumbles against his pillow. It's a futile effort; Cas is already fitting himself behind Dean again, but this early in the morning Dean is not above pouting.

Cas shushes him, palming Dean's bare chest as he pulls him flush. “I'm here, Dean.”

“Don't leave, kay?” Dean requests, eyes drooping again and tongue heavy. He can feel Cas' lips against the back of his neck.

“You know I won't,” is Cas' reply, and Dean's grateful Cas gets it; gets that Dean doesn't just mean _don't leave me right now_ , he means _don't leave me ever_.

Dean squeezes Castiel's fingers in response. He's just dipping towards sleep when Cas shifts against him.

“Last night I forgot to mention I'm working the Farmer's Market today. Would you and Jane like to help me? I have a little surprise for her.”

Dean takes a beat to answer, processing Cas' words in his sleep-fogged brain. “We'll have to stop and get Janie a change of clothes.”

“We can do that.”

“Time?” Dean wonders.

Cas hums. “You can sleep for another hour.”

“Love you, Cas.”

“I love you, Dean. I'm here.”

**:::**

When Dean wakes up for the second time that morning he's got a message from Charlie waiting for him.

_Okay, I'm at your apartment but your car isn't here. What gives?_

He scrubs at his eyes, giving his brain a moment to clear before he attempts a response. Cas is – as promised – still wrapped around him, breath falling in long hot puffs against his neck, and Cas' hard length pressing at his back.

 **Srry,** he types back. **Stayed @ Cas'.**

 _Jane too???_ Is Charlie's quick reply.

**Well, I didn't leave her home alone.**

_Boy, you have some 'splainin to do._

And technically she was promised details quite some time ago, details Dean has yet to give. **Fine but you come to me. Farmer's Market, 8. Helping Cas today.**

Charlie sends back an emoticon, some yellow face with eyes widened, and Dean clicks out of the screen, sliding his phone back to the nightstand next him and wiggling against Castiel until he moans into his pillow.

“That's right, Mr. Comatose,” Dean says lowly. “You just keep right on sleeping. I'll take care of this for you.”

He disappears beneath the covers and takes the tip of Cas into his mouth, letting his fingers find where Cas is still slightly stretched from the night before and sliding in lazily in shallow thrusts.

Castiel moans again, his hand wandering under the comforter where it finds Dean's hair and makes a tight fist. “Dean,” he pants.

Dean doesn't respond, just works Cas over with his tongue and fingers until Castiel is coming with a full body jolt, spilling all over Dean's lips and neck.

When Dean emerges from the covers, Castiel blinks at him, eyes still dark with lust, beautiful rosy blotches peppering his chest. He looks well fucked. “You're a mess,” he says, voice pitched lower than normal, edged with sleep and sex.

Dean smirks at him. “Yeah well, someone coming all over my face might have something to do with that.”

“We should get you cleaned up,” Cas comments casually.

“Shower?” Dean wonders, cocking one brow. “We have about twenty minutes before the kid wakes up.”

“Well then, in the interest of time management and leaving a green footprint, perhaps we should exercise water conservation and shower together.”

“Green footprint, huh?”

Cas rolls to his back, covers pooling around his thighs leaving the rest of him bared for Dean's hungry eyes to graze over with abandon. Dude is fucking gorgeous. “There may also be a soapy handjob involved,” he mentions, stretching his arms above his head and letting loose a yawn that makes its way all the way up from his toes.

“Yeah, next time lead with that,” Dean quips – not that he needs a good reason to shower with Cas. Ever.

“Noted.” As Castiel rolls out of bed and saunters off to the bathroom, Dean almost forgets to follow, watching Cas' pert ass and thick thighs as he goes.

~

As promised Castiel makes breakfast. Then Jane kisses all the animals goodbye (all. of. them.), and they pile into the Impala.

~

At the apartment, Jane throws on a striped shirt and a pair of red shorts, slipping into her worn down pair of Mini Melissa's she just had to have a handful of months ago.

When she steps out into the living room, Castiel hands her a white box with a green bow on top.

"A pwesen’?" Jane asks, eyebrows hitting her hairline, pacifier nearly plunging to the ground in her excitement.

Castiel nods. "I find you well deserving of the gift," he explains.  

Jane manages to get the top off the box and pulls back the tissue paper to find a green, Jane-sized apron folded in crisp neat lines. "What dud it say?" she asks, holding it up for Dean to see.

"It says, _Heavenly Honey_."

"Wike Tas' honey," she declares happily. Dean nods.

Jane's gaze goes to Castiel, and he stands to loop it over her head, tying the strings carefully around her waist. "I'd like to offer you an official partnership in _Heavenly Honey_."

"To hewp you at da martet?" Jane questions, looking down at the stark white embroidery across her chest, hands smoothing over the soft fabric.

"Yes." Cas nods.

Jane's grin is wide, nearly eating up her entire face. "You ha’e a deao."

Cas reaches out, shakes Jane's hand with a beat of finality, and Dean's heart swells, like it's physically trying to make more room for all of the love trying to pour out of it.

**:::**

 Dean doesn't expect Charlie at the Farmer's Market until a bit later, but she's there almost first thing, eyes flitting back and forth between Dean and Castiel and Jane.

“Are you here to purchase something, ma'am?” Dean asks her, tongue in cheek, “Or just oogle my family? 'Cause I gotta tell ya, the honey's probably cheaper.”

“Your daughter is hella rad, and your husband _is_ dreamy,” Charlie retorts, grinning widely at the flush that fills Dean's cheeks. “But I'm here for you, Handmaiden Winchester.”

Dean's hands are balled into fists at his side as he hisses a response at her. “goddamnit Charlie, that was one fucking time.”

Charlie shrugs, unbothered by Dean's annoyance. “Once a handmaiden, always a handmaiden,” she points out.

Dean opens his mouth to respond, but Cas' hand finds the small of his back, warm and reassuring. “Why don't the two of you take a walk before you teach your daughter anymore choice language?” he suggests, voice calm.

“She started it.”

“You're on a roll,” Castiel mutters, leaning in to press a kiss to Dean's cheek before giving him a gentle shove towards Charlie. “Go,” he says. “We'll be fine here. And Charlie?”

She cocks a brow at Castiel. “This handmaiden story is one Dean has failed to mention to me. I'd like to meet with you later for the details.”

“I have pictures and everything, handsome,” Charlie replies, linking her arm through Dean's.

Dean groans as he follows her down the grassy pathway, waving goodbye to Jane. “I hate you both,” he says, walking away from the stand.

“You love me!” Castiel shouts after him, and yeah, okay. That part is true.

Charlie pulls him away from the stand and into the thick of the market where the sun is beating down on polyester canopies, and the smell of fresh citrus and new grass curls thick in the air.

“So you're the kind of guy who gets a boy-toy and never sees anyone anymore, huh?” Charlie asks, blinking up at Dean.

“What do you mean? I saw you at Sam's for dinner.”

Charlie huffs at him, waving her hand in the air dismissively. “That was ages ago. I used to see you every day. Fill me in, how's it going? Not too terrible I assume with all these sleepovers the two of you are having.”

Dean's eyes catch on a little redhead, about Jane's age, running between the stands and pulling cheery yellow flowers out of the lawn. She's got a handful of them before she skips off down the path, dipping left when she sees another.

“I'm in love with him,” Dean admits, surprising even himself. It hasn't been all that long since he and Charlie stood in Dean's kitchen and talked about over thinking things and allowing life to be easy. But now that he has, now that he's basically let go of crippling doubt and allowed Cas to be a part of his and Jane's regular life, it seems like eons ago.

Charlie lets out a low whistle. “I'd say I'm surprised, but I saw your face that first day we saw him again at the Farmer’s Market so I'd be lying.”

“I didn't even know then,” Dean counters.

“Or maybe you did and you just didn't know that you knew.” And it might sound like a load of crap to anyone else, but to Dean, it sounds about right.

“I'm sorry for giving you the boot.” He finally offers. “Just kinda intoxicated right now, y'know?” He looks down at her and is met with a smile, eyes soft and knowing.

“I know,” she says. "You can make it up to me with blackberries."

"You're still pining over the blackberry chick, huh?"

Charlie grins up at him. "I figure if you can find love at a farmer’s market, why can't I?"

Dean sighs, feigning annoyance. "Lead the way, Bradbury."

And she does.

~

By the time they make it back to Cas' booth Jane is handing over one of the last jars of honey with a brilliant smile twitching at her lips. “Fank you,” she tells the customer.

“That was fast,” Dean points out, eyeing the nearly empty table before him.

“Your daughter has a knack for business,” Castiel retorts. “Not one person has left without buying something due to her ringing endorsement.”

“You talking people into buying honey, honey?” Dean asks, gaze finding Jane's.

She shrugs, pulling at the top of her apron. “Yup.”

“Save a jar or two for us, okay? Aunt Charlie's going to come over for dinner, and we'll need something really yummy for dessert.”

Jane searches the table for two jars she likes the flavor of and hands them to Dean. “Six dowars,” she says. Dean throws his head back and laughs before handing Jane her money.

**:::**

Seventy-two hours later, Dean and Jane are still staying at Castiel's. They both have an overnight bag tucked up against some wall or another, and Jane has taken to calling the guest bedroom _her_ room where she spends most of her time trying to get the kittens to wear doll clothes or reading them stories.

The time she doesn't spend in her room is spent outside with the chickens and the goat, all of which she's also claimed as her own.

“I think we've got a problem here,” Dean points out on Monday morning when the first thing Jane asked about was feeding the chickens. She'd reluctantly gotten dressed first, but then she'd pulled on the pair of miniature yellow Wellingtons Cas had ordered and paid a ridiculous amount on express shipping to have them delivered in under a day, and ran out into Cas' backyard.

“You're going to be late?” Cas wonders. He's on the opposite side of the counter from Dean, putting thick cuts of roast beef on two slices of rye: Dean's lunch for the day.

Dean pulls open the fridge, searching for a place for the orange juice and snickering at Cas' comment. “I'm the boss,” he points out, “means I'm never late.”

“I'm at a loss then.”

“The problem is,” Dean begins, folding himself over a barstool and swiping at the countertop with a damp rag. “All Doctor Dolittle out there ever talks about anymore are these animals of yours. I asked her if she wanted to go home yesterday, and she asked who was going to take care of Esther.” He brushes a pile of crumbs into the palm of his hand and tosses them into the sink, washing them down the drain with a swirl of water. “You know she wants a cat now? And I'm the sucker who's going to say yes.”

“If the two of you lived here with me, she'd have three cats,” Castiel points out, voice calm as he sucks a blob of mustard off his thumb.

Dean stares at the water splashing against the bottom of the sink, white noise in his ears as Cas' words roll around in his brain like marbles. “Did you just-” He stops, breathes. “Did you just ask me to move in with you?” he finishes, flicking off the water and turning to stare at Cas' back as he finishes packing Dean's lunch.

“You and Jane, yes. And you have been living here for the past three days,” Castiel says, voice still so steady.

“Yeah, but Cas, three days is different than forever,” Dean counters, and it's not what he'd meant to say, not at all, but he feels like he's in fight or flight mode right now and the fight part is currently winning out. He's not quite sure whether that's better than flight mode or not, or why his body is deciding to be either at all, but it's where he's at, so.

Cas does not seem to be going through the same struggle. When he turns to face Dean, he crosses his legs at the ankle, hands finding the counter behind him and he looks so normal. Like this is the kind of conversation he asks people he's been dating for a month all the time, not like he just asked Dean to make a life-altering decision for both him and his daughter. “Why are you upset?” he asks, frowning, and okay maybe he's legitimately oblivious on this one.

“Because you're acting like it's no big deal, but I've got a kid to think about, Cas. I can't just go picking up and moving my life without thinking about her first.”

He waits for Castiel to fight back, to resist Dean's resistance. Maybe this has been where they've been headed all along, headfirst into an edgy break-up over something most people take years to build themselves up to. But Castiel doesn't fight, and he doesn't resist, instead, he moves in close and wraps an arm around Dean's waist, the other going to guide Dean in with a hand on his neck.

“I didn't mean to imply you shouldn't think about this first, Dean, or ask Jane how she feels about it. Of course, it's a big deal. I'd be worried if it weren't. I'd just like you to think about it is all. And if the answer is no, it changes nothing about us. I want to be with you whether you live here or Germany.”

Dean relaxes in Castiel's arms, bringing his own arms up to wrap around Cas too, squeezing him tight. “'M Sorry,” Dean mutters into Cas' neck. “I freaked out. And I wanna talk about this, I just-”

“It can wait,” Castiel says. “Consider it pinned until further notice.”

Dean catches Castiel's chin in his hands, drawing him in to kiss him sweetly. “I love you,” Dean says when they separate for air.

Castiel presses one more kiss against Dean's mouth, “I love you, too. Now go to work. Boss or not you've got to go in at some point.”

~

At his shop, the matter seems so much more trivial than it had before. Although moving in with one's significant other is a big step, that's what Dean and Cas' whole relationship has felt like thus far, one big step after another, and it's all felt like it's been taking them in the right direction. So why not this, too? If this is where they were headed anyway, blending their lives as one, why not now? The only reason Dean would need to tap the breaks would be for Jane, but if she's on board...

Dean fishes his phone out of his pocket and opens a new message to Castiel. Before sending it off, he re-reads it a few times, letting the words settle in his gut, waiting for even a smidgen of doubt to creep in. When all he feels is calm, he hits send and all his earlier anxieties melt away with the rest of the afternoon.

**Let's talk to Jane tonight.**


	11. Chapter 11

The apartment looks small without all their stuff in it, carpets lined with indents from the vacuum, and everything scrubbed down and ready for someone else to make it their home. Dean lingers in what used to be Jane's doorway, heart sinking at how empty it feels.

This move is a good thing, and Dean knows it's the right step in the right direction, but this apartment is also where he first made a home for Jane. Where he drove her home from the hospital when she was just a few days old, and held her, and held her, and held her even when she wasn't crying because she was his _baby girl_.

It's where she took her first steps and said her first words.

This apartment is where Dean became a dad.

"You ready to go, Winchester?" Charlie bends to pick up one of the two remaining boxes in the hall.

"No," Dean says. Then, "yes." He turns to face Charlie, offering her half a smile.

Charlie tucks the box under her arm, reaching out to squeeze Dean's wrist. "Take your time."

"I'm good," Dean says, and he is. He _is_ good. He's terrified as fuck, and the darker part of his brain keeps prodding at him with all the worst possible outcomes moving in with Castiel could hold, but there's also the optimistic part of him that tells him _this is good_.

With one final sweep of the apartment, Dean follows Charlie out the door. He slides the key home for what could be the last time ever and turns it with a click, not missing the poetic imagery of closing the door to one chapter of his life so he can open another.

"Do you want to stop by the office so you can turn that in?" Charlie asks when Dean pockets the key.

"Nah," Dean says. "Can't get out of my contract for another few months. Unless I wanna pay the outrageous fees that bastard Crowley's trying to charge - which I don't."

"So you're keeping it?" Charlie's expression is tentative, a disapproving tone to her voice.

Dean shrugs. "Not forever." He digs his car keys out of his pocket and pops the trunk, arranging the boxes inside.

"Dean-"

"I'll take care of it, Charlie."

Charlie's mouth moves, like she wants to say something, but can't get the words out. Dean rests his arms on the hood of the car, squinting at her over the top.

"You got something to say, Bradbury?"

Charlie sighs, shaking her head. "I hope you know what you're doing."

Dean flashes her a wide smile. "When don't I?"

Charlie rolls her eyes, pulling open the passenger side door and sliding inside. Dean snickers, settling behind the wheel and pulling out of the parking lot with his sights set on _home_.

**:::**

Dean's no stranger to falling asleep with Castiel curled around him these days. Even before they made things more official, he was accustomed to having Cas in his bed, or being in Cas' bed, and knowing the guy was still gonna be there when he woke up.

But now that it's _their_ bed, that fact feels even more concrete, and with Cas so close like this, it's easy to think nothing could ever go wrong between them.

"Do you think we're ever gonna fight?" Dean ponders, half his brain already giving in to sleep.

Cas' arm around his waist tightens, and Dean can feel the gentle press of Cas' lips against the back of his neck. "Every couple has their disagreements, Dean."

"Yeah," Dean says, voice muffled around a yawn.

"Why, is there something we need to talk about?"

Dean slides his ankle between Cas' calves, drunk on the man's touch. "No, just kinda seems impossible, y'know? Everything feels perfect right now. Weird to think someday we could be in here screaming our lungs out at each other."

"I'm not much of a screamer," Cas offers.

"The you from roughly half hour ago says otherwise," Dean snarks, smirking into the dark.

Castiel huffs into Dean's hair. "Smart ass."

An easy silence settles between them, and Dean strokes his fingers over Cas' hand where it rests low on Dean's belly. "Seriously, though. Can we make a promise to never fight in the bedroom? Keep this our safe place?"

"I like that," Castiel agrees.

"Seal it with a kiss," Dean requests, twisting his neck to meet Cas' mouth. Castiel's hand lands on Dean's cheek, fingers brushing over the stubble Dean has no intention of getting rid of anytime soon on account of downright laziness.

"It's a promise," Castiel whispers when they break away. He settles behind Dean again, brushing Dean's ribs with the tips of his fingers.

"A promise," Dean says. "Awesome.”

**:::**

When Dean suggested hitting up Home Depot, getting left behind in front of a wall full of lighting fixtures by his mostly-husband and his daughter was not a part of the plan.

"This was supposed to be a family trip," Dean grumbles, shuffling towards the scrap piles at the back of the store. And it had started out as a family trip, but that was before Cas and Jane formed an alliance against him and made off towards the paint leaving Dean to fend for himself.

Whatever. If they think leaving him alone will tamper his desire to be a part of the design process of their new home, they've got another thing coming.

Some twenty minutes later Dean's got a cart full of wood and is headed for the finish when he bumps into his so-called family.

"What's all this?" Castiel asks, eyeing the materials in Dean's cart with a cautious eye.

"It's a dresser," Dean answers shortly, "what's it look like?"

Castiel's brows pull into a frown, and if he didn't look so damn cute, Dean might be annoyed.

"It's _going_ to be a dresser," Dean explains. "We need something less shitty than the one you've got right now."

" _We've_ got," Castiel corrects, still surveying the pile of wood in Dean's cart. Dude just can't see the vision apparently. Yet.

"Okay, _we've_ got - despite me having no part to play in the monstrosity you’ve - _we’ve_ got in there now. Whatever. Point is, I'm making us a new dresser. One actually worth putting clothes in."

"How do you know the one we've got now isn't sentimental to me?" Castiel wonders, finally looking up, eyes meeting Dean's over the top of their carts. Jane is strapped into Castiel's, holding paint swatches, and flicking through them with brows pulled down in deep thought.  

"IKEA is sentimental to you?"

Cas' expression turns relenting, and he quirks a smile at Dean. "Not particularly."

"Alright then," Dean says, pushing his cart towards the wood stain, pausing only when he's standing face-to-face with Cas. He wraps an arm around Cas' waist, pulling him in too close to be considered publicly appropriate and letting his hand settle against the small of Cas' back. "I'll let you handle the paint and the kid's room since you've completely overthrown me on that project, and you let me handle making you - _us_ \- the best goddamn dresser you've ever had the pleasure of owning. Okay, princess?" he finishes with a quick squeeze of Castiel's ass before sauntering off towards the darker stains.

"Anything else you want to _handle_ , Winchester?" Cas calls out after him, unfortunately, he misses Dean's responding snicker.

Dean meets back up with them at the paint counter where the man helping them is yapping Cas' ear off about the different texture and qualities of paint. Castiel doesn't look like he could give two shits about what the guy is saying, but he's too polite to say so.

"Show me what you ended up with, sweetheart." Dean looks down at the swatches Jane's got in her hands, swaying backward on his feet when she thrusts them excitedly in his face.

"Peach an’ gwey," she says, proud of her selection. "Tas said I tould get two."

"And Cas is the boss, huh?"

Jane's nod pulls a laugh deep from Dean's chest. _Of course he is_. "Oh yeah? What else did the boss say?"

"He said he was go'n ha’e a talt wif you waiter tus you aren't bein' a dood boy."

A tiny burst of heat streaks along Dean's cheeks and through his groin at the words. "That so?" he croaks, glancing at Castiel as he drops two cans of paint into the cart.

"Is what so?"

"Jane was just telling me you said I was being a bad boy," Dean quips, watching Cas' mouth quirk up at the corners. "And that you're the boss now."

"Now?" Cas asks. "What do you mean now? I've always been the boss."

Dean scoffs, shaking his head. "You might have always been delusional, but you have not always been the boss."

And because he's a traitorous bastard Castiel looks at Jane with an eyebrow quirked. "Who said I was the boss?" he asks her. She smiles at him, wide and gummy.

"I did," she announces.

Cas' eyes are laced with finality when he looks at Dean again. "The Lady has spoken," he says, and really, if anyone's the boss around here, it's her.

**:::**

It doesn't take long to make the transition from living on their own to living with Castiel. Jane takes to her new environment almost seamlessly, and that makes the whole thing easier on Dean, too.

The three of them fall into a routine quickly, Jane and Castiel up at the crack of dawn to tend to the animals, Dean working his nine to six and making sure dinner's on the table every night when Cas gets home, and the three of them piling together on Cas' enormous couch binge watching _Star Wars_ and _Paw Patrol_ a handful of nights a week. After only a week or so, it's strange their lives haven't always been this way. And while Dean still gets a thrill out of seeing his and Cas' clothes hanging next to each other in the closet and their toothbrushes resting against one another in the bathroom, he can't help but wonder where they go from here.

**:::**

"How long after you and Sarah moved in together did you get engaged?" Dean goes for casual, but his brother is one of the most successful attorneys in Kansas City, nothing gets by him anymore. If it ever did.

Sam shrugs, shoving another hulking bite of his stupid strawberries on spinach salad into his mouth. "Five or six months, I guess. That was after we'd dated for a year and a half." He tips back a swig of his sparkling water, and Dean swears on his double bacon cheeseburger he's never taking his hippie-ass brother to lunch in public ever again.

"And you felt like that was, y'know, a sufficient amount of time to be together before you got hitched?" Dean asks.

Sam studies Dean with that sensitive look he gets when he pities Dean. "Why are you asking me this stuff, Dean?"

Dean stares at the grooves in the tabletop that are meant to make it look weathered and worn. If they'd just used repurposed wood, they could've gotten the real effect, and it would've looked better, too. "I dunno," he finally says. "Just kinda thinkin' about what the next step is for me and Cas."

"You guys just moved in together, Dean," Sam points out. "And it's been what, a month since you guys even started seeing each other?"

"I didn't say I'm gonna marry him tomorrow, Sammy, fuck. I just said I'm thinking about it. As in future tense. And screw you, I don't need your judgment."

Sam raises his hands placatingly, a soft smile pulling at his lips. "I'm not saying I don't support it."

"Then what are you saying?"

Sam shrugs again, poking at an errant almond in his salad. "Just that there's no rush. If you want to marry him, then marry him. But if you're content with where you're at right now, let yourself have that."

Dean relaxes into his chair, crumpling his used napkin and tossing it on his plate. "Done sharing your infinite wisdom you are, Yoda? 'Cause I gotta get back to work."

"What?" Sam's frowning at him now. Pity all but gone from his face.

"Shut up and let's get out of here," Dean says. He hops off his chair and bolts for the bathroom leaving Sam with the check.

**:::**

"Hey, whaddya say we throw Jane a birthday party weekend after next and get all the housewarming stuff out of the way at the same time?" Dean asks, watching Castiel strip himself of his clothes and separate them into their color-coded laundry baskets. (Cas wasn't messing around when he said he was particular about the organization of his closet.)

"I suppose it's as good of a time as any seeing as my mother will be in town," Cas says, tossing the last of his laundry into the basket reserved for whites. "I'd like her to meet you and Jane if that's alright with you."

Dean groans into his pillow. "Oh god, isn't this the woman you called the dragon lady when we were in high school?"

"I recall saying no such thing," Cas retorts, but his lips are quirking up into a smile. "And how would you have known that anyway?"

"I dunno, babe. You had a loud mouth. I swear I heard you talking about it to someone at some point." He watches Castiel bend over the topmost drawer of their dresser, the one Dean spent hours on in their garage before presenting it to Cas topped with a big red bow, and pull it open, frowning at the contents therein.

"I was not a loud mouth," he grumbles. He's still digging through the conglomeration of their shared pajama drawer when Dean approaches him from behind, curling his hands around Cas' hips and pulling him away from the drawer.

"What do you think you're doing?" Dean asks, kissing a trail up Cas' neck before stopping to tug at his earlobe with his teeth.

"I'm trying to get ready for bed, Winchester; what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm trying to figure out why the hell you're about to put more clothes on when I was considering trying to talk you into taking the last of what you have _off_." Dean moves a hand along the contours of Cas' abdomen before sliding it up and thumbing at one of Cas' nipples, grinning when Castiel sucks in a gasp and pushes back against Dean.

"I'm listening," he mutters, letting his head fall back on Dean's shoulder, body going lax in Dean's arms.

Dean rubs his thumb over that same nipple, getting it to harden beneath his touch. "Okay, so party? Yes or no."

"Yes," Cas moans. "And Mother? Yes or no."

Dean breathes a sigh against Cas' neck. "If I have to," he agrees before dropping his hand to cup Castiel where he's growing hard. "But I'm refinishing the deck before she gets here."

Cas wraps his fingers around Dean's wrist, shoving Dean's hand just past the waistband of his boxers where there's nothing between them. "Fine," he grates, "now would you please touch me?"

Dean smiles, biting softly at Cas' neck. "Since you asked so nicely."

**:::**

Doctor Garth Fitzgerald's practice is the pinnacle of pediatric care. The staff is always dressed in some cartoon printed scrub top or another, they have kid-sized furniture in the waiting room, and Doctor Fitzgerald has a unique way of taking care of his patients, using silly voices, puppets, and candy to make each and every kid feel special and taken care of. Dean thinks the joint's kind of spazzy, but Jane loves it. And Garth came highly recommended by several of the popular mommy blogs Dean did not spend hours pouring over when Jane was first diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, so he gave the guy a chance.

“How's the queen of the castle today?” Doctor Fitzgerald asks when he enters the room.

Jane's seated on the exam table with her feet dangling easily off the edge and her hands tucked in her lap. “Dood,” she says, around a mouthful of pacifier. Dean had offered it to her in the waiting room while she'd stood in front of the fishtank admiring all the fish and brightly colored coral inside.

“Are you sure you're the same Jane I saw just a few months ago? You look too big to be her.”

“I drowed,” Jane states proudly. “I amost free.”

Garth gasps and looks at the ceiling. “Oh, my stars! Three? That can't be. I swear you were just a baby the last time you were here; how did you grow up that fast?”

Jane giggles wildly at Garth's over-the-top reaction. Dean may think the guy's pretty fucking ridiculous, but the way he makes Jane feel at ease will be what keeps them coming back every time.

“And you brought a visitor with you today. Who’s this?” The doctor’s eyeing Cas now with smiling eyes.

Jane grins. “Dats Tastiel. He’s in wove wif my daddy an’ me.”

Dean chuckles as Castiel’s face deepens a few shades. Now the bastard knows how Dean feels.

“Well aren’t you a lucky little thing to have so many people who love you so much.”

Jane nods, face lit up brighter than the sun itself.

Doctor Fitzgerald is quick in his examination. He makes light conversation with Jane throughout the process, letting her listen to his heart in the stethoscope before listening to hers and telling her he swore he saw a kitten in her ear when he took a peek inside.

When he's all finished, Jane climbs onto Cas' lap and pulls her Toothless backpack out of Dean's hand, digging out her iPad and flicking it on, used to The Discussion that always follows her checkups.

Garth is on a chair across from them, scratching out notes on Jane's chart. “'S far as I can tell she looks healthy as a healthy horse. Looks like you're takin' good care of her diabetes, too; she's well balanced, which is what I like to see, A1C is at about a six which is really good. Did you folks have any questions?”

Dean shakes his head, Jane _has_ been doing well, but Castiel shifts nervously next to him, smoothing down Jane's hair and clearing his throat.

“I did have something I wanted to ask,” he finally admits, glancing at Dean before giving his full attention to the doctor. “I'm curious if we should be concerned about her speech at all. Or if her pacifier could have anything to do with the possible delay.”

Garth nods, eyes growing thoughtful, and Dean feels sick to his stomach. Sure, this is probably a good thing; Cas is taking the initiative to care and notice things about Jane someone else might not have, but Dean had no _idea_ Castiel had questions about Jane and her health. And the fact that he's mentioning it to the doctor rather than coming right out and asking Dean? It feels a whole hell of a lot like betrayal.   

“Typically, the big guys recommend getting your kiddo off the binky around twelve to eighteen months,” Garth explains. “That's not a hard and fast rule, but we do see more and more ear infections in toddlers who are still on the binky. With Jane that doesn't seem to be an issue. No ear infections right, daddy?” Garth glances at Dean.

Dean offers him a winced smile and a shake of his head.

“Now, just because there's not a history of ear infections, doesn't mean it can't prove as a drawback in other areas such as self-soothing, and, like you said, Castiel, speech development. At Jane's age, they say children should be able to be understood by a complete stranger 75% of the time. If you don't feel that's the case with Jane, I have a few speech pathologists I can recommend you get her into, and they can run a speech sample to see if there's reason for concern or not.”

Castiel's looking to Dean now, blue eyes boring into the side of Dean's face. Dean's hand is gripped tight over his knee, hurt and anger boiling just beneath the surface.

“What do you think?” Castiel asks.

 _Oh, now you want to know what I think?_ Dean screams internally because this is something they should have talked about beforehand, agreed to bring up. But it wasn't, and now Dean feels like a complete asshole for never having planned to bring it up, either. In all honesty, it might have been something he wondered himself, too, but figured she'd grow out of eventually...

“75% is probably a stretch for her,” he bites out instead.

“Okie dokie, let me get you some referral cards,” Garth says, spinning in his chair and rolling towards the nearest drawer. “They might tell you it's something she'll need to work on, or they might tell you she's developmentally where she needs to be. They're the experts!”

He returns with a few cards, giving them some information on all of them and offering a few more places they can look online if they don't find someone they like from his referrals. By the time they walk out of the office, Dean's arguing with himself in his head _it's not a big deal, it's not a big deal, it's not a big deal..._

He's quiet the whole way home, letting Jane and Castiel fill the silence while he drives, conflicting thoughts tumbling over one another like a dryer full of tennis shoes. _It’s not a big deal. Yes it is. Why does it matter? Just let it go. That’s your_ kid _he’s talking about._

At home, he totes Jane upstairs, tucking her into bed for a nap and lingering a minute or two longer than normal, allowing the quiet of her room to settle over him.

When he steps back out into the hall, Cas is there with a hand on his flannel-clad arm and brow furrowed. “You're upset,” he states.

“Yeah, Cas. I am.” He looks down to where Cas' hand is still curled around him, and when he does, Castiel drops his arm to his side. He's quiet as Dean brushes past him, stalking down the hall towards the stairs.

Because his and Cas' room is a 'safe haven' he retreats to where he feels second most comfortable: the kitchen.

There's already chicken thawing in the fridge. They were just going to stick it on the grill, but Dean needs to work, to move, to use his hands, so he digs through the fridge for whatever he can find to throw into a soup instead. He's pulling carrots out of the bottommost drawer when he hears Cas enter the kitchen behind him.

“You got something to say, or did you just come down here to stand there and be creepy?” Dean asks when Castiel doesn't speak. He pulls his head out of the fridge, spoils in hand, and shuts the door behind him with an elbow. Cas just stares at him. Fucking coward.

Dean lays everything out on the counter, pulling out a cutting board, and a knife, and slicing the vegetables into neat, clean pieces. “When were you gonna tell me you had an issue with the whole speech thing? And the pacifier?” he growls because if Cas is just going to sit there, Dean might as well say something.

When he looks at Cas, the guy is frowning again, or maybe still, he's not sure. But it's annoying, like he's got no idea what in the hell is going on.

“Dean, I don't have an issue,” Cas finally says. “I just wanted to know if we should be concerned or not. My intention wasn't to go behind your back, it just happened to be on my mind when Doctor Fitzgerald asked if we had any questions, so I asked. I was curious, that's all.”

Dean's knife comes down on a carrot with a little more force than is necessary. “But you hadn't said shit about it to me, Cas. No heads up, no nothing. So fine if you were curious, but you had to ask a doctor before talking to me about it? She's not even your fucking kid. She and I living her doesn't equate to her being our shared responsibility.”

“That is _exactly_ what it means, Dean.” Cas' mask of calm has melted, and his eyes flash now, thunderous. “We're not roommates; you and I are in a _committed relationship,_ and as far as I'm concerned that means everything is our shared responsibility. Including Jane's well-being.” He breaks for only a second before continuing. Dean couldn't even speak up if he wanted to at this point.

“Before we entered into a relationship, you made it very clear to me that you and Jane were a packaged deal, that there was no you without her, and I accepted that _willingly_ , Dean. So you're right. She's not my child. But if you think just because she isn't my own flesh and blood means I don't love and care for her like she is, you are sorely mistaken.”

The room feels entirely too warm, and Dean's stomach feels entirely too knotted. He can see the hurt in Cas' eyes. No, not the hurt, the ache, the _turmoil_ , and it's then that he convinces the dark part of himself to fuck off and begs the rational part of his brain to _listen_ to Cas' words and _hear_ what he has to say.

He lets his knife clatter to the cutting board, resting both hands on the countertop and dropping his head between his shoulders to breathe. “The learning curve for this is bullshit,” he mutters. When he looks back up at Cas, he doesn't feel angry so much as more annoyed. “Do you ever feel like the universe is trying to fuck this up for us?”

“We found each other again, didn't we?” Castiel points out, voice softer.

“So it's just me then,” Dean mutters, and really the reality of that isn't all that far off from possible. He's been terrified about losing Cas since they decided to take a dive headfirst into this whole dating thing, and he wouldn’t put it past himself to fuck things up just so he could tell himself I told you so. Because at the end of the day, he can't imagine anyone wanting this, wanting Dean and Dean's life. But Cas does, and that's still so far beyond Dean's comprehension that the back and forth he feels so often seems inevitable.

“It's not about fault, Dean. You just don't trust me yet,” Cas offers easily, and the guy is either a psychic, or he can see right through Dean's obviously transparent defense system because he's hit the nail on the proverbial head and isn't that just fucking dandy?

Dean sighs, suddenly exhausted. “Kind of ironic, right? Considering I'm the one who walked out on you in the first place. And yet, you're still around.”

“Because I _want_ to be.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. “I want you to be, too.”  

Castiel comes around the island, reaching out and resting a hand on Dean's shoulder, grounding Dean with just the simplest of touches, like he knows exactly how to speak Dean's love language. “I apologize for not speaking to you first. That was my mistake. I failed to take the time to consider how it would make you feel, and for that, I am truly sorry.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean mutters, even though he feels like a complete jackass for feeling relieved when Cas apologizes. But Cas had just said everything was their shared responsibility, right? Leading by example, they call it?

“I know you care about her, you know. When I said she wasn't your kid I was just-”

Castiel stops him, squeezing Dean's shoulder placatingly. “I know.”

“I want to trust you,” Dean adds.

Cas nods. “I know.”

Dean lets out a full body sigh, and he scrubs a hand over his face. “Fuck, I suck at this.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Cas' hand is there on his cheek, guiding Dean's gaze to find his own.

“Dean, we're in this together. This is new ground for both of us. We both suck at it right now. But we'll get better. I love you, and I love Jane. You two are the most important people in my life, and I'm willing to fight for us every step of the way.”

They both go quiet, eyes searching, finding, settling.

“God, I love you,” Dean says, voice dipping quiet and low. This. This is why they fit, because Dean may run hot and cold six days a week, but Cas will be there to ground him every time.

Cas' thumb brushes against Dean's cheekbone. “You look tired,” he says quietly.

“I am,” Dean admits, because he wakes up every goddamn day fighting, since the day Jane was born, fighting for her, fighting to build the kind of life for her he'd always wanted for him and Sammy. And he'd resigned to do it all alone, but now he doesn't have to.

Maybe now, he can rest.

“Can you finish this later?” Cas wonders, and Dean looks down at all his ingredients.

“Yeah.”

Cas nods, taking Dean's hand and leading him upstairs.

In their room, Cas reaches for the hem of Dean's shirt, but Dean stops him before it's gotten much further than his navel. “I can't,” he says, not because he doesn't want to, but because every part of him feels heavy and tired, his chest still trying to loosen after their argument.  

“Dean,” Cas shushes him, “ _trust_ me.”

A split second. That's all it takes for Dean to nod, and then Castiel is ridding him of his T-shirt and jeans, his own, too, and pulling Dean onto the bed.

After they're under the covers and Cas has tucked Dean up against his chest, their skin warm and _there_ against each other, Dean finally lets go, gives himself over to the slow circles Cas is rubbing into his back and the surety of his thighs bracketing Dean's own.

“I'm here,” Cas says just before Dean falls asleep, and somehow that feels even better than hearing him say I love you.


	12. Chapter 12

“Hey, baby, you want a snack before you go down for your nap?”

Jane's kneeling on a bar chair, pulling a string around the countertop for Luna to chase. She squeals when the kitten pounces on her hand, pawing at the string, tail swishing. “Dah.”

“Speaking of naptime,” Cas says, opening the fridge and pulling out some carrots and watermelon for Jane. “Should we start transitioning her into her new schedule before school starts?”

“What do you say, Janie? You think when you turn three you can start your big girl naps?” Dean watches the pull of muscles under Cas' shirt as he cuts up Jane's snack. Dude has a great back.

Jane dangles the string in the air, taunting Luna as she glances at Dean. “What's a bid dirl nap?” she wonders.

“It's a nap that happens a little bit later in the day than what you're used to. Otherwise, you'll be falling asleep at preschool.”

Jane scrunches her face in distaste. “I don' wanna tate a nap at pwestool.”

Dean smiles at her. “I didn't think so. So we can start your big girl naps when you turn three?”

“Dah,” Jane says again.

“Next week?” Dean asks Castiel as he turns and sets a plate down in front of Jane. She picks up a piece of watermelon and sucks at it while Dean grabs her water cup from the fridge.

Castiel's got a cheek full of watermelon when he responds. “Sounds good to me.”

“Are you sure you have to turn three, baby girl? You really don't want to stay two for a few more years?”

Jane giggles, biting a baby carrot in half. “I tant stay two, Daddy,” she informs him. Dean sighs and nods.

“Fine,” he says, “but you know what that means?”

“What.”

“Means I'm gonna need as many two-year-old hugs as I can get before you turn three and can never give me a two-year-old hug again.”

Jane smiles at Dean. “Otay.”

“Awesome.

While Jane works on her snack, Dean joins Castiel where he's loading dishes into the dishwasher. Dean pulls a dirty plate out of the sink and runs it under the water before handing it to Castiel.  “You still gonna have time for-” Dean wiggles his eyebrows at Castiel, “before you have to head to the hospital?”

“As long as I don't get called in early.”

“I'm feeling lucky today,” Dean says.

Castiel smirks at him, accepting a cup full of silverware from Dean. “You will be when I'm through with you, Winchester,” he quips, and Dean chokes on air.

“God, you're so fucking nerdy.”

Behind them Jane's pushing her plate across the island, the soft scrape of plastic barely audible above the still running sink. “Da’,” she says, “tan I ha’e some more wa’ermewon? Dust a witto bit?”

Dean glances over his shoulder at her, but she's not looking at him, she's looking at Castiel.

“Da’,” Jane says again, and Cas bumps Dean's shoulder, eyes still trained on the cups he's lining up in a nice neat line on the top rack of the dishwasher.

“Your daughter's talking to you,” Cas mutters. When he moves to pull another dish out of the sink, he glances at Dean and frowns. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“Because I think Jane's talking to you.”

The expression on Cas' face is unreadable as he slowly turns to acknowledge Jane, and Dean's stomach is practically alive with butterflies, or grasshoppers, or whatever the hell crap metaphor people use for feeling undeniably happy.

“What did you say, bumblebee?” Castiel asks.

“Tan I ha’e some more wa’ermewon.”

“And you were talking to me.” Castiel points a finger at his chest, eyes so wide, so blue.

“Pwease,” Jane says with a nod of her head.

The smallest of smiles grows on Cas' face, his cheeks not so much flushing as much as they are glowing. “Yes, of course,” he says, turning to dish a few more watermelon chunks onto her plate.

When he hands it back to her, Dean just can't help himself. “What do you say to your dad?”

Jane beams a satisfied smile at Castiel, shoving one of the smaller pieces into her mouth. “Fank you.”

“You're welcome.” Castiel's voice is quiet, his lips still tugged up into a grin, and Dean moves in close to him, putting his lips right against Cas' ear.

“Hear that, sweetheart?” He says, “You're a _dad_.”

“You didn't tell her to-”

Dean shakes his head. “No, Cas. That came all on its own,” Dean says, and it's such a small detail in the grand scheme of things, but knowing Jane can and does accept Castiel as someone who's going to be in her life for the rest of forever means Dean can, too.

~

In their room, not long after they've put Jane down for a nap, Dean pins Castiel on the bed, leaning over him with fingers twined through Cas' and lips grazing Cas' mouth and cheeks and jaw.

“Is-” Cas starts, “Are you- Is what Jane said okay?” he finally gets out. Dean smiles against the knob of his jaw, loving how flustered Castiel is.

“I'm more than okay,” Dean says. He noses along Cas' temple, lips grazing his ear. “I'm freaking thrilled.”

Castiel pants for a moment before continuing, guiding Dean's hand down to the fly of his jeans. “Because if you're not, I won't be offended. I'm not trying to erase your role as Jane's father.”

“Hey, shared responsibility, remember. Far as I'm concerned, that makes you just as much her dad as it does me. And apparently as far as Jane's concerned she feels the same way.” Dean goes for Cas' button before he pulls down his zipper and tugs Cas out of his boxer briefs. He's already hard and leaking pre-come, all ready for Dean to push the tip past his lips and suck as Castiel bucks up off the bed.

“Fuck,” Cas hisses, and Dean relaxes his jaw, allowing Cas to move of his own accord. He doesn't last long, probably the shortest Dean's ever seen him, and when he comes he flops against the bed, breathing hard.

Dean gets himself out of his own underwear and fits himself in the groove of Cas hip, rocking against him until he finds a good rhythm and can meld Cas' mouth with his own.

“We don't want Jane to be an only child, do we?” Castiel asks between kisses, sucking in a breath when Dean brushes Castiel's spent cock just right.

Dean smiles into Cas' mouth. “I don't know, do we?”

“It's of my opinion she'd make a wonderful elder sister,” Cas breathes, the tips of his fingers grasping Dean's naked hips, dragging him in closer. “Of maybe one, or two siblings.”

“Two,” Dean gasps. “You've seen how she is with the cats. She needs more than one person to boss around.” He's getting close, that familiar itch growing low in his gut. Cas reaches between them, taking Dean in hand and pulling at him in quick, tight motions.

“Two it is, then,” Cas agrees just as Dean comes all over his fist. He breaths into the crook of Cas' neck, hand falling light on Cas' ribs.

“We're gonna have the kick ass-est family.”

He can feel Castiel smile, fingers running along the fine hairs on Dean's neck. “We already do.”

**:::**

Naomi Novak blows into town in a sharp grey pantsuit as crisp and stiff as the gaze she gives Dean upon first meeting him.

“You must be Castiel's roommate,” she says reaching out a hand, a biting smile on her face. Dean nearly chokes, his eyebrows hitting his hairline, and he shakes Naomi's hand with a barely there grasp, already entirely rubbed the wrong way by the woman.

“He's not my roommate, Mother, stop calling him that. His name is _Dean_. You know that.”

“How easily one can forget,” Naomi states, smiling sweetly at her son. Castiel rolls his eyes and leads her into the kitchen.

At the dining table, Dean's put together quite the spread in anticipation of Naomi's arrival. It's not so much that he's trying to win her over with his amazing cooking skills, but more so that he's definitely trying to win her over with his amazing cooking skills.

Naomi surveys the room with an opinionated eye, pursing her lips here, and cocking an eyebrow there. It's giving Dean the willies, having someone pass silent judgment on his home the way she is.

“The entertainment system is new,” Naomi says, pulling out a chair across from Castiel and Dean.

Cas spoons pasta salad onto Naomi's plate as he nods. “Dean made it,” he states; a note of pride in his voice.

Naomi hums. “So, Dean, are you a stay at home father, or do you work for a living?” It's obvious she's trying to bait him into saying the wrong thing – whatever the wrong thing may be – but Castiel warned Dean about her manipulative ways several days prior.

 _“I’m her only child. It's her twisted way of protecting me,”_ Cas had said. _“Just don't allow her to get under your skin, and you'll be fine.”_

“I work,” Dean retorts. “I've owned my own woodworking business for about five years now.”

“And you're able to support yourself and your daughter with that line of  work?”

Dean smiles at her around a mouthful of food. “Yup.”

“I'm sure it doesn't hurt to have access to my son's income though,” Naomi states, sipping at the glass of wine Castiel poured her. “That had to have been a persuading factor when you began dating him, no?”

Dean stiffens at the insinuation, relaxing only when Cas' hand finds his thigh underneath the table. “Contrary to what you believe, I had no idea Cas was a doctor when I jumped into the sack with him. Really, it wouldn't have made a difference what his career was, I still would've slept with him.”

Castiel chokes on his food, and Naomi frowns, eyes narrowing. This would probably be a good place for Dean to stop, but he can't help himself. “Not to mention, I actually don't make much less than Cas, and I ain’t got thousands of dollars in student loan debt, so if somebody's in this relationship for money, you might wanna point fingers in a different direction.”

Cas is smiling to himself as he pushes food around on his plate. Obviously amused by Dean's response.

Naomi, however, is not amused.

“What was it then, Dean? What made you fall so in love with my son that you had to move in with him in under a month and put the responsibility of a child on him when he has work to focus on. If it wasn't money, what was it?”

And because Dean's on a roll he gives absolutely no thought before saying, “His crazy huge-”

But Castiel's fork clatters to his plate, and his eyes are daggers, aimed at his mother across the table. Dean stops. He's never seen Cas with that much barely contained rage on his face before.  

“Do not speak about him that way,” Castiel growls, “or our daughter.”

“Castiel-”

“No, Mother. Dean and Jane are my life now, my _family_. I love them, and as a father, and a committed partner, I will protect them from anything or anyone I don't feel has their best interests at heart. If that's going to be a problem for you, I suggest we find you a more comfortable place to stay while you're here. Surely, Gabriel has plenty of room at his.”

The room falls quiet. Dean settles his hand over Cas' where it still rests on his thigh, squeezing for good measure. Castiel squeezes back, but he and Naomi are staring each other down, having some silent conversation only mother and son could understand.

After a beat, Naomi breaks, shoulders loosening, and something like understanding softening her expression. “Well then,” she says gently, “when do I get to meet my granddaughter?”

“She should be up from her nap in about an hour,” Dean says, because she may have just walked into his home and insulted him right to his face, but Cas had said it was a protection thing and in a weird twisted way Dean kind of gets it. So maybe Naomi Novak isn't going to be his favorite person on the planet, but as a fellow (formerly) single parent and as Jane's only living grandmother, he can respect her.

Not long after that, Naomi’s phone rings and she excuses herself to take the call outside. Once she's out the door, Dean elbows Cas in the ribs. “Thought you said not to let her get under my skin.”

“I did. I said nothing about not letting her get under mine,” Castiel points out easily. He looks at Dean, eyes going serious. “And I wasn't going to just allow her to speak to you and of you that way, Dean.”

Dean pulls Castiel in with a hand framing his cheek. “Thanks for taking care of me, babe,” he says before pressing a kiss against Castiel's mouth.

Cas smiles, a gentle tug of the corners of his mouth. “Always,” he says.

~

Jane, of course, charms the pantsuit off Naomi within just a handful of minutes of meeting her. She pulls Naomi around the house, showing her all the rooms and introducing her to all the animals (that Naomi's surely met, but allows Jane to do it anyway), and then she talks Naomi into sitting at the table with her and coloring for about an hour.  

By the end of the day, Naomi's earned the nickname “Nomi” (instead of Grandma), and Jane has told the woman her whole life story.

Although Naomi is still learning to understand Jane, she listens carefully – looking to Dean or Castiel for translation every once in awhile – and makes Jane feel like the most important person in the room.

~

“I'm going to turn in, too,” Naomi says, shortly after Jane's been tucked in for the night. She gathers Castiel in her arms, rubbing his back as she hooks her chin over his shoulder. “She's beautiful, Castiel.” Dean can hear her murmur. “Such a lovely child.”

“I can't take credit for that,” Cas says as they pull away. “That's all Dean.”

Naomi smiles at him. “She seems to truly love you.”

“She does,” Dean offers. “Your son is a pretty awesome dad. Took to it like he's been doing it for years.”

“I had quite an amazing example,” Castiel explains, cheeks tinged pink at the compliment.

“You boys seem to know what you're doing,” Naomi says. “And I apologize for having doubting that.”

“Can't say I would've acted any differently if Jane were in my position,” Dean admits.

Naomi pulls Dean into a hug, too. “Thank you for loving my son,” she says, and maybe, as he watches her wander off to bed, Dean's eyes go a little misty. Just maybe.

**:::**

Jane's birthday comes all too quickly for Dean's liking. He knows she won't be little forever and watching her grow is one of the absolute best parts of having a kid, but god he doesn't want to lose his baby.

They invite the whole family over for Jane's kitten themed birthday party. Sam, Sarah, and Charlie are there, Gabriel and Naomi, too, and Dean feels pretty damn lucky Jane has so many good people in her life who love her.

Being the great kid she is, Jane's excited about every aspect of the day, running around outside with the animals, making Gabriel lay in the grass with her while the kittens climb all over them, and blowing out all three of her candles when it's time for cake and ice cream.

But when Castiel presents Jane with a tiny black and white guinea pig (because the guy thinks they're running a goddamn zoo around here), Jane bursts into happy tears.

"He's so tute!" Jane squeals clutching him against her chest, and it might just be one more mouth for them to feed, but there's a sentimental part of Dean - a totally manly sentimental part - that likes to think Jane got her love for all things animal from Castiel.

Sam and Cas help Jane set up the guinea pig's tank - not that he gets much time in there, as Jane won't put the damn thing down - and then their whole crazy family argues over what the guinea pig’s name will be.

("No, Gabriel, we're not calling him Baberham Lincoln.")

In the end, Jane decides on Pig.

After the party, Sam and Sarah take Jane for the rest of the night to meet up with her "cousin" - Sarah's sister's daughter Eleanor who's Jane's same age - for a birthday sleepover.

~

“Y' know with all of the stuff we've had going on this week, I kind of forgot what today is,” Dean admits, as he and Castiel clean up balloons, and birthday cake, and wrapping paper.

Naomi left for dinner with a few of her associates, and they have the house to themselves, which is kind of perfect considering.

“You forgot it was Jane's birthday?” Castiel asks, frowning at the wad of streamers in his hand.

“Obviously I didn't forget that,” Dean says, eyes rolling. “I forgot today is our one month anniversary.” He avoids Cas' eyes when he says it because if Cas doesn't want to make a big deal out of them making it one month, Dean won't either. But there's a part of him – okay a really big part of him – that hopes Cas wants to celebrate.

Before he knows it Castiel is in front of him, cupping Dean's face in his hands and drawing Dean's gaze to meet his own. “Dean,” he mutters, smiling, “I didn't know you're such a romantic.”

“I'm not romantic, Cas, I just really like sex.”

Cas is walking backward now, pulling Dean with him, pausing only to lean in for a kiss here and there. “You can have sex whenever you want,” he counters. "Remembering anniversaries is romantic."

“Thought you said flowers were romantic,” Dean mumbles against Cas' mouth.

“I did.”

They stumble into their bedroom, closing and locking the door out of habit, and then Cas is dragging Dean in with a fistful of his shirt and sealing their mouths together.

Dean wraps his arms around Cas' waist, letting his hands wander up the back of Cas' shirt, fingertips digging into the fleshy contours of his back.

Castiel goes for Dean's fly, but Dean catches his wrist, stopping him. “Can we-” his face feels incredibly hot with Cas' gaze so intent on his. “Can we make-out first?” he asks, voice cracking with mild embarrassment.

He wants Cas in him like yesterday, to connect with him on the most intimate level they can possibly connect on, but he also doesn't hate the slow build of a buzz just beneath his skin, leading up to something bigger.

Cas is smiling, drawing Dean in again. “Like I said,” he says quietly, “romantic.”

Dean feels a lot like he's sixteen again when Castiel climbs on top of him, kissing him tentatively and then with more confidence. Had they had their shit together when they were younger, this is exactly the kind of thing Dean would've hoped Cas would be into.

No way would he have lasted this long as a teenager, though.

They're both really getting into it, hands wandering, both of them hard in their pants when Cas' phone goes off, and he groans into Dean's mouth.

“Ignore it,” Dean says, slipping his hands down the waistband of Cas' pants and cupping his ass.

“I ah- I can't.” Castiel breathes, “I'm on call tonight. Technically I'm already supposed to be there.” He drags himself off of Dean, stumbling to the dresser where his phone is vibrating.

“Just me and my hand then?” Dean asks, blinking up at the ceiling as the sex haze clears from his brain.

Castiel leans in to press one final kiss to his lips. “I'm sorry,” he says. “I love you.”

And then he's gone.

**:::**

Dean walks through the automatic doors to the hospital hours later; while being on call, Cas was required to stay for the night, so it's almost six a.m. when Dean shows up. The waiting room is pretty vacant, just a few families here and there, and he's greeted by a tired receptionist as he passes her desk, on his way to the elevator.

“Peds,” he tells her when she raises a brow at him.

She nods and looks back to her computer screen.

The pediatric wing is on the third floor. It's decorated in cheery muted colors with pictures of smiling babies and children on the walls. Seeking out the nurse's station, Dean rests a hip against the Formica encased counter and waits to be acknowledged by the pretty brunette sitting behind it.

“Hey, you're the guy from the picture.” She's looking at him now, brown eyes flicking mischievously over his form, plump rose lips quirking up into a knowing smile.

“Uh-” Dean says.

“That's right,” Meg, her name tag says, smirks. “You're the baby daddy. You know, when Cas first walked in, half of us about killed each other trying to get to him, myself included; I won't lie about that. It was better than Christmas morning when ole' blue eyes showed up and worse than tax season finding out he had a wife and kids at home.”

“Hey,” Dean growls, frowning at her, but Meg isn't to be deterred.

“Easy, handsome,” she purrs, “I know he's yours. I'm just sayin', things don't work out between the two of you, I won't waste any time swooping in, you know understand?”

“Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but there ain't gonna be any swooping. _You_ understand?” The smile he offers her is pinched, and she laughs lowly at it.

“Easy there, tiger. I just look is all. Not that he'd even notice anyway since all he talks about is you and that little charmer of yours – drives Doctor I crazy. But really, would it kill you to put a ring on it so the rest of us don't make asses out of ourselves?  I don't think my scrub top will go any lower.” At that Meg glances down at the fair amount of cleavage Dean's actually impressed she's sporting. There's not much about scrubs that says sexy, but somehow, Meg's attempts seem to be at least somewhat successful.

“You do know he's gay, right?” Dean asks. “Ring or no, you don't even have the right parts.”

Meg shrugs, eyes flicking back to her computer screen. “A girl can dream,” she mutters. “I'll let him know you're here. His surgery should be about done.”

“Thanks a lot, Meg. And hey, how about keeping those eyes to yourself, huh? No more oogling my boyfriend.”

At that Meg's eyes flash with laughter, a smile growing broad on her face. “Don't sound so worried, handsome. No swooping, remember?”

Dean finds a seat as far away from Meg as possible and in perfect view of a television playing _Lilo and Stitch_. He's seen it about a hundred times, but it sure beats sitting in direct view of the nurse's stand.

Lilo's just handing over two dollars to pay an adoption fee when Cas comes walking down the hall. His scrubs are navy, pulling all the prettiest, deepest parts of his eyes into full color, and his hair is poking out of his scrub cap in dark unruly strands. There's a surgical mask still looped over his ears, but it hangs around his chin, leaving his beautiful mouth free and visible. At his side is a man in grey scrubs, he looks a few years older than Castiel, his haircut clean and his short beard greying. Castiel says something to him and the man smiles, placing a hand on Cas' shoulder and keeping it there for longer than Dean's comfortable with.

When Castiel sees Dean he smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. The man follows Cas' gaze and assesses Dean silently before giving Cas' shoulder a squeeze and wandering off in the other direction. Cas approaches Dean in the waiting room.  

“I was just going to call,” Cas says, resting both hands on either arm of the chair Dean's in and bending to kiss him.

“Now you don't have to,” Dean smiles. “Who was that?”

Cas drops into the chair next to Dean, slouching as low as he can without actually sliding out of the chair altogether. “Doctor Ishim. He's the cardiac attending.”

“He seems pretty chummy.”

Cas hums eyelids drooping. “He's a fan of my technique.”

“Oh is that all,” Dean asks, voice thick with sarcasm. Castiel may be oblivious to what Doctor Ishim is really a fan of, but Dean sure the hell isn't.

Castiel cranes his neck to look at Dean, frowning. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Dean shakes his head. “Never mind.” That will have to be a different conversation for a different day. “How'd it go?”

“Well,” Castiel mumbles around a yawn, dropping his head to rest on Dean's shoulder. “It was a fairly slow night aside from an infant with a coronary artery fistula.”

Dean smiles, kisses the top of Cas' head. “I have no idea what that means, but it sounds like you saved a life today.” Pride swells in Dean’s voice.

“I did my job today,” Castiel counters, and he's yawning again. This one long and deep.

“Okay, Mr. Modest. I think it's time we get you tucked into bed. Unless you wanna pick up where we left off first.”

Cas hums. “Actually a bath sounds nice, if you're up for it. Jane won't be home for a few more hours will she?”

“I told Sammy I'd pick her up at ten.”

“We can take her to brunch.” Cas stands to stretch, reaching his arms high above his head and arching his back so that his scrub top rides up revealing the slim cut of hip bone disappearing into his bottoms. There's a faint mark there, almost grey it's so faded, and Dean thinks it's about time that bruise gets a renewal.

“Hey, before we leave you wanna get frisky in an on-call room?” Dean asks, standing too.

Castiel frowns, pulling his surgical mask off and folding it in his hands. “What?”

“Y'know like they do on _Dr. Sexy, MD_?”

“You watch too much television,” Cas comments, shaking his head. He finds the nearest garbage can and tosses his mask inside. “There are on-call doctors sleeping in the on-call rooms, Dean, that's what they're for.”

Dean stomps down the thread of disappointment curling in his gut. No sexy on-call make out sessions? What kind of bullshit is this hospital? “Fine then, how about the elevator?” he wonders.

“How about we go home, and I take my time fucking you in the tub,” Castiel counters. He's already walking away, and Dean has to jog to keep up.

“Or we could do that!” Dean shouts after him.


	13. Chapter 13

July

“God _damn_ , Cas, you should never be allowed to wear clothes.”

When Castiel had arrived home from a thirty-hour shift, he'd kissed Dean hello and gone straight for the shower. And now, standing in the middle of their room wrapped in nothing but a towel, hair wet, and beads of water dripping onto his shoulders and sliding down his chest, Dean can think of nothing else but tracing every visible inch of Cas' sun-kissed skin with his tongue.

“I'd make quite the statement at work, I suppose,” Castiel says.

“Okay, I amend my statement. You should never be allowed to wear clothes or leave this room.”

Dean's backing Cas against the bed, tugging open his towel and letting it pool around Cas' feet.

“You should get on the bed now,” Dean mutters into Cas' mouth, hands roaming over Castiel's back and ass.

Castiel runs his fingers through the hair at the back of Dean's head, pulling him along until Cas' legs hit the bed. “You should come with me,” Cas says.

“That's the plan.” Dean smiles around the words, climbing onto the bed after Cas and settling himself over the other man.

Dean spends a good moment kissing Cas on the mouth, tongues lazily moving together and around one another in a familiar dance, but then Dean pulls away to kiss Cas' jaw, his neck, his beautiful fucking collarbone, and down his chest.

Castiel sighs when Dean licks over a nipple, pulling it into his mouth when it hardens. When he applies a little pressure with his teeth, and his tongue, and his lips, Cas let's out a moan, his hand tightening in Dean's hair.

Moving to his other nipple, Dean gives it the same treatment, sucking, and biting, and sucking again as Castiel's breathing grows a little more pronounced. “Don't stop,” Cas pants, and Dean smiles against the warm skin beneath him. How easily Cas falls apart. How easily Dean falls with him.

Continuing his ministrations to Cas' nipples, Dean allows his hand to wander lower, lower, lower until he's curling his fingers around Cas' length and pulling on him in a rhythm that starts out slow but gains pressure and speed at just the right momentum to keep Castiel right on the edge, teetering precariously, but never tipping over.

“Dean, more,” Castiel pleads, his eyes shut tight. “Please. I need to come.”

Dean's grip tightens marginally, and he dips his other hand lower until he can press against Cas' entrance, drawing a deep gasp from him.

“Dean,” Castiel says, and then he's coming all over Dean's hand and pulling Dean in to fit their mouths together in a deep, sloppy kiss.

Their mouths are still connected when Castiel works open the button on Dean's jeans and gets him out of his underwear, jacking him in quick, precise strokes.

“Should I draw yours out, too? See how long you can last like this?” Castiel asks.

Dean suppresses a whimper when Castiel's grip twists at just the right angle. “No time,” he retorts, biting Cas’ bottom lip. “Everybody's gonna be here soon.”

“And that's a problem?” Cas is smirking, raising his chin so Dean can get at his neck.

“You're the one who's naked,” Dean points out. He fixes his lips against Castiel's pulse point and bites down. He learned pretty quick that Castiel likes things just a hair on the rougher side, which is fine by Dean because maybe he kinda likes it that way, too.

He's almost there, brain harrowing in on one goal: release when they hear the crunch of tires on gravel just outside their home.

“Fuck,” Dean grates. “C'mon, baby.”

Castiel finally gives in, tugging at Dean with a tight fist until Dean's body jerks into climax.

Dean closes his eyes for a beat, forehead falling to Cas' sternum as he breathes through his orgasm.

Car doors are slamming downstairs, and Dean knows it's a matter of seconds until the doorbell rings and their moment of privacy will be over. He forces himself up, blinking down at Castiel, a lopsided grin growing on his face. “I hope you aren't planning on going shirtless anytime soon,” he comments. “'Cause if you do, everyone's gonna know you're a nipple guy.”

Castiel surveys his chest, the dark spots blooming around his nipples, and blushes.

“Don't know how you're gonna hide this one though.” Dean brushes his thumb over the hickey darkening on Cas' neck and smiles to himself. Guess now everyone at work will actually have a reason to look at Cas.

“You've never really been discreet, Winchester.”

Dean grins at Castiel, wide and unapologetic. “Discreet just ain't my style.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, sliding off the bed. “Yes,” he says, “I know.”

Sam and Sarah are left standing on the porch for a good few minutes before Dean and Castiel make it down to answer the door. When they do, Sam eyes them suspiciously.

“Busy?” he asks, eyes flicking over the flush that's settled in Cas' cheeks and the disarray that is Dean's hair. When his gaze lands on the new mark on Cas' neck, he frowns.

Dean claps his brother on the shoulder. “C'mon, Sammy, you've never seen a hickey before?”

“How old are the two of you?” Sam grumbles, stepping into the house.

“He's just jealous he doesn't have one too,” Sarah offers, brushing past them with a wink and a smile.

When Sam and Sarah have made their way into the kitchen, Dean grins at Castiel. “Yup,” he says, “that one's gonna be a problem.”

Castiel raises a self-conscious hand to his neck. “Asshole,” he mutters. Dean's smile widens.

“ _Don't stop_ , I believe is what you said.”

“That was when you were-” Castiel stops, looks around. Instead of continuing, Castiel drags Dean in by his belt loops, kissing him hard on the mouth. “Asshole,” he says again, and then he's sauntering off after Sam and Sarah, leaving Dean in the entryway, head spinning.

When Charlie arrives she's got a girl with her, the one from the farmer's market, if Dean remembers right.

“Everyone, this is Alice. Alice, this is everyone.” Charlie makes a wide sweeping motion with the hand that isn't intertwined with Alice's, and the girl smiles at them, wiggling her fingers. She's cute, if not quirky, which is exactly Charlie's type.

“So you took the phone number after all,” Dean quips, lining things up on the grill after lighting it up.

Alice smiles at Charlie before answering. “I have a thing for redheads.”

“She is kinda cute, isn't she?” Dean jokes, brandishing a spatula as Charlie sticks her tongue out at him.

Castiel drags a cooler over, popping open the lid and pulling out sodas for everyone. He's got those damn aviators on again, and really it just ain't fair how easily the guy can get under Dean's skin.

It's hard being turned on all the time. (Pun definitely intended.)

“Did Dean ever tell you I thought you were his wife when I first met you at the farmer's market?” Cas asks, lips quirking up into a smile.

“Dean's been holding out on me,” Charlie says. “But why would you think that, hadn't you guys already- _oh_. _That's_ why you looked so terrified of me.”

“I thought I'd slept with a married man.”

At that moment, Jane's voice pipes up over the baby monitor, croaky and thick, obvious she's just woken up. “Da’?” There's a faint meow in the background, and then Jane's voice again. “Da’.”

Dean and Castiel make eye contact. _She's asking for you_. Castiel nods and excuses himself.

When he's stepped into the house, Charlie groans, covering her face with a hand. “Oh my god.”

Dean frowns at the hot dogs he's charring to perfection, poking one with his spatula. “What?”

“You guys have that creepy married thing going on.”

“I saw it, too!” Sarah agrees. Dean looks over at Sam, question in his eyes, but Sam just shrugs and takes a swig of his beer. _Good for nothing little brother._

“Do I even want to know?” Dean asks.

“You know the creepy, read-each-other's-mind, married thing.”

Dean protests, “We do not do that.”

Castiel steps back onto the back porch with Jane settled on his hip. “Dean,” he says, eyebrow raised. _Where are her lancet and glucose meter?_

“Everything should be in her backpack, hanging on her hook, I think.”

Cas nods and takes Jane back inside. When Dean turns back to the grill everyone is looking at him, various expressions of _I told you so_ on each of their faces.

“Whatever,” Dean hedges, “it's not creepy it's just- _intuitive_.”

“Married,” Charlie coughs into her fist.

Sarah snorts a laugh into her lemonade, and Alice is giggling at the both of them. Dean points his spatula at her.

“And I was just starting to like you.”

“I'm sorry,” Alice quips, “I couldn't hear you over how married you are.” She barely gets the words out before she's laughing again, and Dean's going to kick them all out and keep every last hot dog and burger for himself.

“Sam,” Dean grunts, “I could use some manly help over here at my manly grill.”

When Sam merely frowns at him, Dean sighs. “Get your ass over here, Sasquatch.”

Sam lumbers over, accepting the tongs Dean hands to him, and turning over a few hot dogs.

“Thanks for your support,” Dean mutters, his elbow accidentally making contact with his brother's ribs. Sam let's out an oof and scowls at Dean.

“I think they're right,” Sam offers. “Maybe not the married part – unless there's something you aren't telling me – but you and Cas definitely have something.”

Dean shrugs, heart fluttering in his chest as he smiles to himself. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

A silence settles between them for a beat before Sam looks over, tucking his crazy long hair behind an ear when it falls in his face. “So Cas is 'dad' now. When did that happen?”

Dean studies the grill intently. “I dunno, couple weeks ago or so."

“Dean, that's-”

“It was all Jane, Sammy,” Dean cuts in, hackles rising. “I didn't say a damn word to her about it. It was as much of a surprise to me as it was to Castiel.”

Sam's smiling at him, the jerk. “I was going to say that's great, Dean. It can be hard to blend a family, especially as quickly as you and Cas have done it. But Jane seems to be happy and comfortable with all of this. She seems to be handling it as well as you could expect.”

“Well yeah,” Dean says with a smile, relaxing until his shoulder is brushing Sam's. “She's got two kick-ass dads, why wouldn't she be happy?”

Sam rolls his eyes, good-natured smile forming. Turning over a few more hot dogs he says, “Your modesty is astounding.”

~

Between the seven of them, they put away a dozen and a half hot dogs and a few cheeseburgers, too. After everyone has had their fill, Jane leads Charlie and Alice around the backyard, introducing Alice to the animals while Sam and Castiel get put on clean-up duty outside.

Inside Sarah and Dean are washing dishes and cutting fruit for dessert later.

“You know,” Sarah says, hands deep in sudsy water. Her gaze – like Dean's - is trained out the window where Jane is running up to Castiel to show him something in her hand. He bends at the waist, pulling off his aviators and, judging by Jane's wide smile, responds appropriately. “For all the crap we give you two, he really is a catch.”

Dean watches Jane kiss Castiel on the nose before taking off towards the chicken coup, and he smiles to himself. _Hell yeah, Cas is a catch_ , he thinks and then promptly says aloud.

Sarah bumps his shoulder, smiling, too. “He's an incredible surgeon, too. Doctor I is always going on and on about Doctor Novak this, Doctor Novak that, and he's never satisfied with anyone's work.”

“Doctor Ishim?” Dean wonders, because he's still got a feeling in his gut the guy isn't just impressed by Cas' work.

Sarah nods, hands Dean a plate for him to load into the dishwasher. “He's not the only one,” she says, smiling and shaking her head. “All the nurses fawn over him, and a bunch of the interns are always fighting to work with him. I don't think Cas has bought his own cup of coffee since his first day there. He'll have no problem getting an attending offer when the time comes.”

“And you think this is all because he's a good surgeon?” Dean questions because yeah, he's sure Castiel is a kick-ass surgeon, but after talking to Meg and seeing the way Doctor I was with Castiel, excuse him if he's not readily accepting the 'he's a good doctor' excuse.

If that's the case, if all Doctor I is really interested in is Castiel's career, Dean will personally send the guy a fruit basket. Until then, dude better keep his hands to himself.

Sarah frowns. She wipes her hands clean with a hand towel. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you don't think he gets any sort of special treatment because of his huge blue eyes? Or his perfect ass? Or y'know,” Dean gestures at Cas out the window, “everything else? You think it's just because he's good at what he does?”

Sarah bites her bottom lip and shrugs. “He's in love with you, Dean. You've got nothing to worry about.”

“But is it something Cas needs to be worried about?”

“You want to know if he's getting harassed,” Sarah says, and Dean nods. Is he afraid of Cas running off with Doctor Silver Fox? No, not really. But is he worried about Cas being too nice and too enthralled in his work to notice things aren't exactly kosher in his work environment? Or of people giving Castiel the honest and fair shot he deserves despite being the best looking guy on the planet? Definitely.

“Don't get me wrong, the guy is fully capable of taking care of himself,” Dean explains, “he just misses things sometimes. Road to hell and all that.”

Sarah nods. “I'll watch out for him,” she assures Dean.

Dean smiles. It isn't a lot, but it's more than he can do, so it makes him feel at least marginally better.

~

They make it to the park in time to find a perfect spot to set up their blankets and lawn chairs and settle in for the firework show the city puts on every year.

As the sun begins to set, Dean tugs the aviators off Cas' face, folding them and setting them aside on the blanket. “You're killin' me in those things, Top Gun.”

“You don't like them?”

“I think I like them a little too much,” Dean admits, shooting Castiel a smirk.

Castiel smirks right back. “Now you know how I feel when you showed up at my honey stand for the first time."

Dean frowns, thinking back. He's pretty sure he looked nothing short of a hobo that day: unshaven, hat shoved on backward over wet hair because he couldn't be bothered to give a damn, and probably the holiest pair of jeans he owns... But then, maybe Cas is into that whole just-rolled-out-of-bed look.

“Mmmmmmmm. So you like the scruff, huh?”

“You always look handsome, Dean,” Castiel counters, like there's an argument to be won.

“But?” Dean asks, eyebrow quirked.

“But I am quite fond of the scruff,” he declares.

“That's it,” Dean says, “I'm throwing away my razors tonight. No more shaving for me.”

Castiel reaches over him, taking his sunglasses back and perching them on his nose. “Then you'll understand why I need these back.”

Dean pulls him in for a much-needed kiss.

Not too much later the sky lights up in greens, blues, reds, and purples, sparks bursting above their heads in sporadic beats.

Jane's crawled into Sam's lap and has her head tilted to the sky, eyes wide and bright in amazement.

Castiel is nestled against Dean's side, leaning into Dean as “God Bless America” croons over the loudspeakers, and it kind of feels like a perfect moment.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean begins, stomach twisting itself into a neat little pretzel. “Do you want to get married?”

A wave of shock crosses Castiel's face, mouth hanging slightly ajar, eyes searching Dean's before he answers. “Are you asking me to-”

“No!” Dean almost shouts, suddenly self-conscious. “No. I just. Y'know, we're living together now, and I kinda don't see that ending anytime soon. And if we're still y'know, in the future would that be- would you want to- would marriage be a thing you'd be into?”

Cas is smiling now, letting Dean stumble over his words and sound like a complete asshole, but his smile sets Dean at ease. “I think I could be into it.”

Dean lets all of the air out of his lungs, nodding. “Awesome,” he says, and for the rest of the show, he feels a little like he's floating.

**:::**

Dean wanders out of his room nearing midnight. Cas was supposed to be home about twenty minutes ago, and the guy hasn't even called. It's not like him to be late.

Padding down the hall, Dean stops at Jane's room on his way to the kitchen. He cracks her door and glances inside only to find Castiel on the bed with her, holding her against his chest and letting his fingers run through her silky strawberry hair.

“Hey,” Dean whispers. “I didn't even hear you come in. I was getting worried.”

“I apologize.”

Dean perches on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle Jane. He lets a hand rest on Castiel's denim-clad thigh, squeezing gently. “You okay?” he asks because it's a little unsettling he didn't even let Dean know he was home.

Cas closes his eyes, and when he opens them they're rimmed with tears. “I lost a patient tonight,” he explains, voice quiet, but thick. “She was so small, Dean. All I could see was Jane. And I-” Cas stops, breathes for a beat before continuing. “And I think I finally understand.”

Dean remains quiet, hand still on Cas' leg, the only kind of comfort he knows how to offer at this point.

“I think I finally understand the fear of losing the most important person in all the world. A couple lost that today, and I couldn't do anything for them. It was awful. And the whole time, I couldn't help but think how I'd feel if it were Jane. If she-”

“Hey,” Dean says, reaching for Cas' wrist. “She's okay, Cas. She's here. And that little girl, you did everything you could for her, didn't you?”

“I tried so hard, but- Losing a patient is always awful, it's just never felt like _this_.”

 “Welcome to fatherhood,” Dean says, offering Cas a gentle smile. Dean squeezes his wrist before letting go, reaching to pull Jane's nightgown down a little. “You wanna bring her in with us?”

“I don't want to wake her. I just need a few more minutes.”

Dean rubs a hand over the back of his neck before he admits, “I do it all the time. She's kinda my security blanket when shit gets tough.”

“Alright,” Castiel agrees after a beat.

“Why don't you go change, and I'll bring her in.”

Cas nods, bending to kiss Jane's forehead before climbing off the bed. He shuffles off while Dean gathers their daughter in his arms, careful to get her blanket and stuffed monster, too, and carrying her into their bedroom.

“Hey, baby,” Dean mutters when Jane blinks her eyes at him. “Sleepover?”

Jane closes her eyes again, sucking on her pacifier as she garbles back at him. “Tay.”

He lays her in the middle of the bed just as Cas comes out of the bathroom. He's in one of Dean's T-shirts and a pair of flannel bottoms, and he's kinda breaking Dean's heart with how distraught he looks.

When he joins them on the bed, he wraps himself around Jane and reaches for Dean's hand over her little hip. “When does it stop?” Cas asks with a shudder.

“What, the total incapacitating fear that someday something will happen to your kid?”

Castiel nods, and Dean squeezes his fingers where they're slid between Dean's own. “It doesn't,” Dean tells him. “But we can shoulder that together.”

Cas is quiet for a moment before whispering, “I love you.”

And Dean's not sure whether the guy is talking to him or to Jane, but it doesn't matter. He knows it's true for the both of them.

“We're here, Cas,” Dean responds. “Right here.”

  



	14. Chapter 14

“I think it'd be pertinent of me to invite some of the people I work closely with to dinner.” Cas' back is against the headboard, his reading glasses (yeah, the guy was holding out on Dean, goddamnit - they’ve been together for over a month, and Cas is just now pulling the things out) perched on his nose as he scans over some medical journal or other that Dean took a peek at and didn't understand a word of.

Dean looks up from his email, blinking up at Castiel. “Oh you do, do you?”

“I do. They've welcomed me with such kindness, I think it's only right I give back.”

“So by giveback, you mean I'll be busting my ass in the kitchen all day so your hoity toity friends can come stuff their faces with my gourmet dinner?”

Castiel looks down at Dean only to find him smiling. Cas' frown eases. “Asshole,” he mutters.

“Am I invited to this shindig?” Dean questions.

“Of course.”

“How many people we talking?”

“Sam and Sarah, of course, Meg, my scrub nurse, one of our interns, Alex, and her mother Jody, and of course Doctor Ishim.”

Dean does his absolute best to keep the scowl off his face. That douchebag is bad news, Dean just knows it. But he also knows he wants to trust Cas when he tells him there's nothing to be concerned about and so he shrugs. “Do I need to see if Charlie can take the kid?”

“I'd like her here if that's okay with you. I want them to meet my family,” Cas voice goes quiet, almost timid.

Dean sits up in their bed, setting his phone on the bedside table and tugging the journal out of Cas' hands. He straddles Cas' lap, hands finding the headboard on either side of Cas' shoulders.

“You want to show us off?” Dean asks, smile coy.

“Of course I do.”

Dean bends to nip at Cas jaw. “And _you're_ going to cook for it?”

“I thought we could do it together,” Castiel offers, so damn transparent it's actually pretty fucking adorable.

“When's the horse and pony show going down?”

“Next week?” Cas asks.

Dean seals his mouth over Cas', kissing him deeply. “Fine.” When they break to breathe, Cas reaches for his glasses, but Dean stops him.

“Leave them on, Clark Kent. I wanna tell you about a little fantasy of mine.”

**:::**

“Wow, Clarence, nice digs.” Meg's on the doorstep peering inside, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised in approval.

“It's my mother's,” Cas says, welcoming her in. "We just rent it."

Dean is just beyond the entryway, hiding out in the hallway with Jane, but his sanctuary ain't gonna last much longer, Cas and Meg are headed their way.

“I figured you'd be hiding around here somewhere,” Meg declares when she spots Dean. She approaches with eyes on Jane, and Dean has half a mind to hold her closer, block Meg from getting near her.

But Castiel trusts Meg, Dean can do his best not to be an asshole for one night.

“Well aren't you just as cute as a button,” Meg says, lighting a finger on Jane's nose. Jane's face scrunches under the touch, and she's eyeing Meg curiously.

“Who's dat, Daddy?”

“Daddy calls her the Scary Lady,” Dean explains, chuckling when Meg shoots him a sarcastic smile, and Castiel frowns. “But you can call her Meg.”

“Med?”

“Yeah, Meg.”

“You're pwetty,” Jane says, resting her head against Dean's chest. The kid might be shy, but she'll never pass up on speaking her truth.

Meg smiles at Jane, eyes softer than normal. “Thanks, kid. I like you.”

“Obviously she gets her manners from her more refined father,” Castiel pipes up, leading Meg into the dining room.

“That's gotta be you,” Meg says with a smirk, “no way Dean's the refined one.”

Dean follows close on their heels, moving Jane to his other arm. “Who needs to be refined when they can be a rebel?”

“Yeah,” Jane agrees. “Daddy's a webel.”

“Daddy's something alright,” Cas mutters. He catches Dean's eye, smiling privately at him, and Dean winks.

Meg groans. “God, please tell me I'm not gonna be stuck here alone with the two of you all night. Did you invite other people, Blue Eyes, or was this all just a ruse to make me puke my brains out?”

As if on cue the doorbell rings, and Castiel excuses himself to answer it. When he returns, the man Dean recognizes as Doctor Ishim is following Cas, smiling big and bright at him and handing him a bottle of wine.

“Doctor Ishim, this is Dean and our daughter Jane,” Cas says, stepping into the room.

Dean watches the man's face darken as he takes in the two of them. “I didn't know you had a child, Castiel,” Ishim says, nodding a greeting at Dean.

“I speak of her quite frequently,” Castiel corrects, reaching to pull Jane into his arms. She cuddles close to him, and Dean gets a sick sort of satisfaction at watching _Doctor_ Ishim squirm.

“Of course,” he says, “I only meant I was led to believe she’s Dean's daughter given the way you speak of her.”

“She _is_ my kid,” Dean interjects, “just as much as she's Cas' kid. What's so hard to understand about that?”

Ishim offers Dean a tight smile and a nod. “My mistake,” he mutters.

Dean shoots Cas a look, _Is this fuck nugget serious?_ and Cas shakes his head. “It's fine,” he offers. “Now you know.”

Only a beat passes before there's someone at the door again, and Cas, the fucking traitor, leaves Dean with the creeps to go answer the door.

With Cas comes a young, dark-haired girl, and a spunky haired woman with kind eyes. It's not Sarah and Sam, which means this must be Alex and Jody.

“You must be the husband I hear so much about,” Jody says by way of greeting. She's smiling at Dean like she's known him her whole life, and Dean instantly likes her.

“Boyfriend,” Doctor Ishim corrects, looking at Castiel. “Or did I misunderstand that as well?”

“We're together,” Castiel says because both he and Dean have agreed the term 'boyfriend' doesn't really fit what they are to each other.  

“Alright then,” Jody says with a nod. “You must be Dean.”

Dean smiles at her. “I am.”

“And this is Jane?” Alex asks, making eye contact with Jane and smiling, offering her a small wave.

Jane's returning smile is small and shy, but she waves, too, and Dean's pretty damn grateful his daughter seems to know what the hell's up with some of the yahoos taking up space in their home.

Of course, Sam and Sarah are the last to arrive, but Dean sends a praise to the heavens when they do. Sam immediately sweeps Jane into his arms, swinging her high above his head before settling her on his hip, and Dean can see the tension easing out of her little shoulders now that there are a few more people around that she knows.

Somehow they've all met Sam before (that somehow is probably due to the years Sarah's put in at the hospital), and without any further introductions needed, everyone's ushered to the dining table and offered a seat. That's when the real fun begins.

“Have I told you about Castiel's valve replacement surgery?” Doctor Ishim's got a glass of the wine he brought in his hand, and he's smiling at the group with a barely contained excitement.

“It wasn't _my_ surgery,” Cas counters.

Doctor Ishim rests a hand on Castiel's wrist. “You're too modest, Doctor Novak,” he counters, “I did nothing more than offer moral support.”

“Here we go,” Meg mutters under her breath. Dean turns to her and frowns.

“Here we go what?” he asks.

Meg spears a piece of chicken and tosses it into her mouth, chewing around a smug smile. “The Doctor Novak Ass Kissing Hour.”

“What's-”

Meg elbows him, nodding towards Ishim. “Just listen.”

“-never seen a fellow with such precise movements,” Ishim's saying. “He was so tuned in to the patient's body, I've never seen anything like it. It was like he was operating on his own heart.”

“It was really amazing,” Alex offers, glancing at her mom. “Doctor Novak's surgeries are always insightful.”

Ishim nods, his fucking hand still on Cas' wrist, and it's a damn good thing Jane and Castiel are acting as a barrier between Dean and Ishim 'cause Dean's about ready to throw down.

“I often wonder why I'm an attending and he's only a fellow.”

“Because you have years more practice than I do,” Castiel points out, voice neutral. Dean lets out a silent sigh of relief when Cas politely withdraws his wrist from underneath Doctor Ishim's touch and uses his hand to wipe away some gravy at the corner of Jane's mouth.

Ishim goes unbothered, settling back in his chair and throwing an arm across the back of Cas' chair like Dean isn't sitting right the fuck there. He continues on about Castiel and how wonderful he is, and Castiel continues pointing out other people – Meg, and Alex, and Sarah – who were also incredible on this or that case.

“See,” Meg says, pointing her fork at Dean, and maybe she's had just a little bit too much wine, but so far she's the only person he's been able to get anything out of. “This is a daily occurrence for him. Doctor I worships the ground your boy walks on.”

Dean grunts. “Is he usually this touchy-feely?”

“Yup.”

“And Cas-”

“Doesn't have a clue,” Meg says, confirming Dean's suspicions. “I told you, we all like to look, but that's all we do - look. I can't say the same for Doctor I.”

“I can see that.”

“Like I said, ole' Blue Eyes is clueless. Nothing for you to worry about, Dean-o.”

“So I've been told,” Dean grumbles, but his gut is telling him otherwise.

After dinner, there're more stories about Cas. Dean excuses himself to put Jane to bed when she's stuffed full, and her eyes are drooping. She gives Sam and Sarah hugs around the neck and gives a small wave to the rest of them before climbing into Castiel's lap to kiss him goodnight.

“Wuv you, Da’.”

Cas smiles at her, hands on her ribs as he pulls her in for a hug. “Love you, too, bug.”

Dean watches Doctor Ishim watch the whole exchange with hard eyes and his body held taut.

It takes only a handful of minutes to read her a story and get her into bed, and when Dean heads back into the dining room, everyone's clearing the table, handing Sarah dishes and pouring more wine.

Doctor Ishim has Castiel pulled aside, wine in one hand and the other placed low on Castiel's back. Cas is looking at the floor, nodding every once in awhile to something the other man is saying. Dean takes one look at the two of them and something inside him snaps.

“Hey, baby,” Dean says with a smile, walking over to where Doctor Ishim has Castiel tucked away and pulling Cas in by the waist.

Castiel looks startled for a beat, but then he relaxes in Dean's embrace, chuckling. “Hello.”

“Dinner was awesome,” Dean tightens his grip on Castiel, drawing him in for a kiss.

By the time they pull away, Doctor Ishim has wandered away, giving Dean a small sense of victory.

“What was that all about?” Castiel wonders, brushing a thumb over his mouth.

“What, I can't show a little affection every now and then?”

Cas smiles, knowing. “I'm watching you, Winchester,” he says, kissing Dean one more time before moving to pull the remaining dishes off the table and carry them into Sarah.

He stops to rest a hand on Jody's shoulder, pointing at the fridge and nodding before he's at Sarah's side, helping her with the last of the cleanup.

And then, of course, Ishim makes his way over, too, and the three of them are standing huddled together over the sink. Dean has absolutely no excuse to join them, but he wanders over anyway, stopping at the bar where Alex and Meg are arguing over who out of their coworkers they'd bang.

“Novak for sure,” Meg's muttering into her wine glass, and maybe she's got the right idea, letting the alcohol flow aplenty. She winks at Dean as she says it, and Dean shoots her a biting smile.

“Fuck you,” he says jovially, tugging the wine bottle from her hand and refilling his own glass. Wine's never really been his vice, but if there's a chance it might get him drunk, he's sure as hell going to drink it. He fills his glass almost all the way full – way above what's considered acceptable – and downs the whole thing in a few gulps.

Alex laughs at him, slapping him on the shoulder. “Don't worry, Dean. Not everyone's hot for your man. Some of us have the decency to respect the boundaries of someone who's in a committed relationship.” She shoots Meg a chastising look.

“Aw, handsome and I have a little understanding,” Meg explains. “He and I are besties. Right, Dean?”

Dean takes a few swallows from his glass before toasting it to Meg. “That's right. You understand that if you ever even blink in Cas' direction, I will stab you in your face, and I understand that you understand that.”

Meg beams at Alex saying, “See? Thick as thieves.”

Dean's pouring himself a third glass when Sam and Jody find him. Sam pulls the bottle out of Dean's hands, gripping its neck and settling it on the opposite end of the counter from Dean. Sammy's always been “worried about Dean's drinking” given their dad was a sloppy drunk and the more John drank, the more Dean drank, too. Even after the guy kicked the bucket, Dean relied pretty heavily on the sauce until Jane came along.

Now it's only once in a blue moon he goes overboard.

“Thirsty?” Sam asks with a brow cocked at the glass Dean's downing.

Dean reaches for the bottle in Sam's grasp. “Parched,” he grumbles, scowling when Sam pulls it out of his reach.

“How 'bout some water?” Sam asks, corking the bottle and setting it on the counter behind him.

“How 'bout go screw yourself,” Dean snaps, and the wine is barely touching him, making just the very edges of his brain feel fuzzy, that familiar weightless feeling tugging at him when he moves just right. If Sam hadn't confiscated the bottle, Dean would be well on his way to being good old fashion wasted, and wasted Dean is a good Dean.

Sam frowns, wrapping his mammoth paw around Dean's bicep and dragging him into the pantry, closing the door behind them.

 

“What the fuck, Sammy.” Dean rubs his arm.

“You read my mind,” Sam states, throwing his arms out to his side. “I was going to ask you the same question.”

“You're really going to lecture me about drinking right now? Right now when some dickwad is all over Cas like I'm just some guy?”

Sam lets out a breath, shaking his head. “Dean these are Castiel's co-workers. One of them being  someone who could have a huge effect on his career. I understand the pity party you're throwing yourself, but can't you at least wait until everyone is gone? C'mon, Dean, don't embarrass Cas. Not tonight.”

“Don't _embarrass_ him,” Dean repeats, feigning thoughtfulness. “So you're saying you haven't noticed how Doctor Douchebag is with Cas? Am I just seeing things, Sam?”

“It's probably nothing, Dean.”

“You're telling me that if some guy was touching Sarah the same way Ishim is out there touching Cas, you wouldn't say a damn word about it?” Dean gesticulates towards the door for emphasis.

Sam's eyebrows knit together, and his mouth pulls into a thin line.

“But I'm not supposed to do anything about it because you don't want me to embarrass him.” Dean continues.

Sam shrugs, voice quieting. “He's a grown man, Dean. He can take care of himself.”

“Like I said, Sammy,” Dean growls, taking a step closer to his brother. “Go. Screw. Yourself.”

Dean bangs out of the pantry with a fake smile plastered on his face. Okay, so he's not going to (intentionally) embarrass Cas, but he's also not just going to twiddle his thumbs while this Ishim guy has his way with Castiel.

He finds Cas spooning what little leftovers there are into a glass dish, pressing things this way and that to make room for it all. Doctor Ishim's not far off, rambling on to Jody and Meg about some intern that kept making incorrect notes on Cas' charts just for an excuse to talk to him.

“The poor girl just wanted to get her time with him, I understand,” the doctor says, “but I had to pull her aside and let her know Cas' charts needed to be pristine and that I'd hate to have to move her to someone else's service. - How have your charts been since then, Doctor Novak?”

“Flawless,” Cas comments without looking up, sucking some gravy off his thumb before sealing the dish.

“Hey,” Dean says, stepping up behind Castiel and wrapping two arms around his waist. As far as Dean's concerned this is just a normal display of affection. And if he shoots a glance out of the corner of his eye to make sure Ishim is watching (he is), well, that's just a coincidence. “You think we can bust out the dessert? It's getting late.”

Cas' gaze flicks to his watch before nodding. “Help me?”

Dean smiles to himself, satisfactorily. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

They stand close together, slicing up the cheesecake and dividing slices out onto a plate for everyone, shoulders brushing every now and then. Grabbing a fork Dean stabs into the very tip of his own slice, offering it to Cas with a hand held under the fork, ready to catch any escaping crumbs.

“As the host, it's your duty to make sure this cheesecake is nothing short of perfect before we start subjecting your guests to it,” Dean explains, holding the fork to Cas' lips.

Cas smiles, shaking his head before opening and accepting the bite. “It's missing a little something,” he comments, chewing carefully.

Dean's about to protest – he made that cheesecake himself, ain't nothing wrong with it – when Cas pecks Dean on the lips and nods. “That's better.”

“Oh god, I'm gonna have to kiss everyone now, aren't I?”

“Absolutely not,” Cas quips, gathering plates and handing them out.

Dean takes a piece to Ishim, who's been quietly observing their whole exchange, which may or may not have been Dean's plan the whole time, but fuck him, Dean's not the sharing type. Ishim's stare is icy, a silent warning. Dean flashes him a wide smile.

~

“You're not driving, right?” Dean asks as Meg saunters towards the door.

“Course not, pretty. I ubered here, and I'm ubering home. It's like my very own chauffeur.”

Dean snorts. “Yeah, if you consider being hauled around in a Honda chauffeuring.”

“I don't need all the bells and whistles,” Meg counters. “I'm easy to please.”

“Yeah, I'll bet,” Dean mutters, following her to the door. Jody and Alex are right behind them, Sam, Sarah, and Ishim not far off either.

Jody pulls Dean in for a hug, patting him on the back. “Nice meetin' ya, Dean. Don't be a stranger, okay?”

“Yeah, you too, Jody.”

Jody offers Cas a light kiss on the cheek, and then she and Alex are following Meg out the door.

“Hey, uh, take care, Dean,” Sam says, squeezing Dean's shoulder. He's got his worried face on, attempting to pull one over on Dean, but Dean grew up with that bullshit, he knows how to deter the guilt that usually accompanies Sam's _disappointed_ expression. Most of the time. Okay 40% of the time. Fine 10%.

Dean wraps Sarah up in a hug, smiling at the tiny bit of bump she's sporting. “Watch out for this one,” he says in her ear, hefting a thumb towards Sam.

“Always,” Sarah responds with a laugh.

As soon as they're gone, Dean's ready to drag Ishim out of the house and lock the door tight behind him. Of course, he's walking with a hand on Cas' shoulder and smiling as he thanks Cas.

“It was a pleasure to be in your home tonight, Castiel.” Doctor Ishim says, “The time it must have taken to prepare everything; you really went the extra mile.”

“Dean did most of it,” Castiel remarks, making eye contact with Dean and smiling.

Ishim nods, lips pulling into a thin line. “Regardless,” he says, “what a lovely evening. I'll see you at work tomorrow.”

Castiel nods, coming to stand next to Dean as Ishim settles in the entryway.

“Well,” Dean says, offering a hand to the man. “I've gotta tuck Cas into bed now. Drive safe.”

Ishim shakes Dean's hand, albeit reluctantly, and then he's stepping out on the porch, and Dean's closing the door behind him.

As soon as the door has shut, Castiel draws Dean in, kissing him hard on the mouth. “You can stop now,” he mutters.

“Stop what.” Dean shudders when Cas bites down on his earlobe, tugging before letting go.

Cas' lips move to Dean's jaw, and he mouths at the stubble there. “Peeing in a circle around me.”

“I wasn't-”

“Dean.”

Dean sighs, frustrated. “Fine. But, Cas, that Ishim guy is-”

Castiel brushes his lips across Dean's cheekbone, his lashes fluttering against Dean's forehead. “Into my career, Dean. Nothing more.”

“Baby, his dick is so hard for you, he could host his own goddamn circus in his pants.”

Cas kisses him again, shushing him. “It's time for bed.” When he looks at Dean, his eyes are hooded, lips reddened from time spent brushing them against Dean's stubble.

Dean considers protesting further, but then, Cas is offering sex, so Dean would have to be the dumbest person to have ever lived to turn that down. He nods, allowing Cas to lead him up the stairs by the hand, body taut in anticipation when Castiel locks the door behind them.

Dean reaches for Cas as the other man turns to flick off the light, but he moves just out of Dean's reach, turning on his bedside lamp and shaking his head.

“No touching yet,” he tells Dean, and what the actual fuck is going on?

“Me or you?” Dean asks.

Castiel smirks at him, reaching for the hem of his sweater vest and pulling it over his head. “Both.” He tosses it to the ground, making for the buttons on his shirt, and undoing them with his eyes on Dean.

Okay. So Cas is stripping.

Dean's mouth waters.

“Do you even comprehend what you do to me, Winchester?” Castiel asks, letting his dress shirt slip off his shoulders, revealing his gorgeous chest. The guy might look a bit on the small side in all the ill-fitting clothes he wears, but underneath it all is a fucking _gift_. “How you make me feel?”

Dean can only shake his head because now Cas is massaging himself through his pants, eyes closed and head bowed. He lets out a sigh before ridding himself of his belt, and then unfastening the button and fly on his pants. When those drop to the ground too, Dean can see where Castiel is growing hard in his boxer briefs.

“I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you,” Cas mutters, hooking his thumbs through the waistband of his underwear and sliding them down his thighs achingly slow. “And no one has ever had the ability to make me feel the way you make me feel, Dean. There are so many pieces of me that felt incomplete until you came back into my life.”

It's strange to hear such sentimental things coming out Cas' mouth when he looks downright filthy, standing completely bare for Dean, dick thickening, and his hand helping it along the way.

Strange but not unwelcome.

Castiel climbs up on the bed, moving toward the headboard, ass in the air, and Dean can feel the beginnings of arousal burning low in his belly.

“Come here, Dean. I need you close to me.”

Dean approaches the bed, reaching for Cas, but Cas shakes his head. “No touching yet.”

“Should I-” Dean looks down at his clothes, then back up at Castiel.

“No.”

With heart pounding wildly in his chest, Dean joins Castiel on the bed. Cas is such a kinky bastard, Dean's never quite sure what the hell the guy's got in store for him. That's not to say Dean's not into it every single time...

After being directed to sit with his back against the headboard Dean spreads his legs, welcoming Cas to settle between them, his back to Dean's chest.

“What's the plan here?” Dean mutters, biting gently at Cas' earlobe.

Castiel heaves a heavy breath, moaning quietly at Dean's ministrations. “I want you to watch,” he explains.

Dean hisses a low “Fuck,” and then Castiel wraps a hand around himself and begins to stroke himself in slow, tight movements.

“This only happens for you, Dean,” Castiel admits, his head falling back on Dean's shoulder, a sigh escaping him. “Do you understand what I'm telling you?”

Dean's throat feels dry, like he hasn't spoken in years when he croaks, “I think so.”

Castiel hums, satisfied. “I love you so much it feels like my heart could burst from how full it is. You are my forever, Dean. You, and Jane.”

“Me, too.”

He knows Castiel said not to touch, but Dean can't help himself, his fingers practically itching to _feel_.

With the barest of pressure, Dean lets his hands slide around Cas' waist, roving slowly over his abdomen, and palming his chest. “This okay?” Dean asks against Cas' ear. He brushes a thumb over Cas' nipple, and Castiel gasps, bucking up into his own hand.

“God, _yes_.”

Dean smiles into Cas' neck, fixing his lips there and sucking until the skin grows warm beneath his mouth. When he pulls away there's a sizeable bruise forming, and he smiles. He bites at the mark for good measure, drawing another gasp out of Castiel, then fixes his eyes to where Cas' hand is moving in quick, sure strokes over his length. He looks fucking gorgeous like this, moving heavy against Dean, sighing, and gasping, and breathing Dean's name.

Dean's mind reels.

“Did you ever-” He stops, swallowing, because maybe this is none of his business, but he's curious now. “After the reunion did you ever think about me when you touched yourself.”

“I didn't touch myself after the reunion,” Castiel admits without hesitation, “but I thought of you every single day.” And strangely, that's better than if Cas _had_ jacked off with Dean in mind.

Guilt washes over Dean, because he still remembers what it felt like when he walked away, and it's terrifying thinking he could've missed this, could've missed the intimacy, could've missed _Cas_. But Cas is there, breathing hard against his chest, fist moving along his dick with abandon, and the guilt and terror are replaced with gratitude and the constant feeling of right that hasn't left him since that day at the farmer's market.

“Dean,” Cas whispers, twisting at the head of his cock. Dean rubs his thumb in slow circles over Cas' nipples, peppering his neck and shoulders with kisses.

“You're gorgeous,” Dean tells him. “And I love you.” At that Cas is coming all over himself and Dean's slacks, reaching up behind him to thread the fingers of his clean hand through the hair at the base of Dean's skull.

He rests there for a moment, breathing through his orgasm, and Dean wraps his arms around Cas' waist, holding him with his face buried in Cas' neck, breathing in his scent and letting the comfort it brings wash over Dean.

“I can feel you,” Castiel mumbles.

Dean chuckles against him. “Not sure what you expected. You kinda blew my mind with your little show.”

“That was the plan,” Cas offers. “And now,” he says, “the plan is to take care of you, too.”

“You gonna watch me now? Cause I have to admit, Cas, it was super hot watching you – fuck, I'd gladly do it again – but, I'm not so sure I'd be half as good as you are.”

Castiel turns against Dean, kneeling between Dean's legs and drawing him in for a kiss. “No,” he says. “I want to do it.” And maybe he knows Dean's self-conscious about the idea of putting himself on display the way Castiel did, but he doesn't seem bothered by it in the least. Quite the opposite, actually.

Cas is undoing Dean's dress shirt, his mouth sealed against Dean's as he pushes the shirt off Dean's shoulders and reaches for his fly. “I thought about this all through dinner,” Castiel confesses, “stripping you out of your clothes and having my way with you.”

“I wondered what the fuck you were smiling at.”

Wiggling his hips, Dean lifts his ass off the bed and allows Cas to pull his pants and underwear off in a slow slide down his legs. When his socks are gone, too, Dean grips his knees, willing himself not to touch himself unless otherwise directed.

“How do you want me?” Dean wonders, voice husky.

Castiel lies himself out on their bed, leaning against the nest of pillows lining the headboard, and taking Dean's hand to guide him to straddle Cas' lap.

“Perfect,” Cas says, reaching for Dean. He makes a tight fist around Dean's length, fluid and tight with his movements, and Dean lets his head fall back, mouth hanging slightly ajar as Castiel works him toward orgasm.

Images of Castiel masturbating are still running through Dean's mind when he feels a climax building in his gut. “Cas,” he breathes, looking down to where Castiel is watching his own hand move over Dean.

Castiel makes eye contact with Dean, biting his lip as he speeds up his movements, squeezing just a little bit tighter. “Come on me, Dean,” Cas instructs, and Dean peels his eyes open to blink down at the other man. “Mark me,” he requests. “I'm yours.”

And Dean's never really thought about it like that before, that shit just kind of goes where it goes, heat of the moment and all that, but Cas' eyes are serious, dark, and lust filled. Before he can think twice about it, Dean's coming in thick stripes that land on Cas' chest and abdomen.

It shouldn't feel any different than normal, but it does. Seeing himself streaked along Cas like that, his neck blooming with a bruise impossible to hide, and all by Castiel's instruction – it feels like one more step forward. One more way they belong to one another.

“I love you,” Castiel murmurs, pulling Dean in for a kiss. “I choose you, today, yesterday, tomorrow.” He's said those very words before, but they mean just as much to Dean now as the first time he heard them.

Dean smiles against his mouth. Maybe that dickwad doctor does have it bad for Cas, but Dean's got no doubt in his mind Cas only has it bad for him.

**:::**

The following morning they're gathered around the dining table, Jane with her bowl of fruit, Castiel making his way through some homemade granola or whatever the crap it is, and Dean with his eggs and bacon (because he's the only Winchester-Novak with any sense of what a decent breakfast includes.)

“Da’, what da owie on your neck?” Jane asks around the half a strawberry she popped into her mouth before speaking.

Cas' cheeks go pink as he blinks down at his bowl. “Daddy's a vampire,” he tells her, looking up at her with a smile.

Jane blinks wide eyes at Dean, head tilted in a way that's so Cas his chest _aches_ with it.

“It's a grown-up owie, baby girl,” Dean explains, shooting a warning glace Cas' way. Cas winks at him and dips his spoon into his bowl, gathering more of his hippie cereal to shove in his perfect face.

“Oh,” Jane says with a nod, accepting Dean's word as truth.

Dean nudges Cas foot under the table to which Cas merely chuckles at because he's a dirty fucking bastard, who's apparently set on scarring their kid for life.  

  



	15. Chapter 15

“Back again?” The cunning redhead behind the counter flashes a sharp smile at Dean, a twinkle in her eye.

When they first met, all Dean saw was hair and eyes, and the woman's thick Scottish accent that took him a minute to decipher. Now that he's been to her shop close to four times, he knows her as Rowena, the woman who could sell sawdust to a wood shop and is deeply invested in Dean settling on a ring and making the Big Purchase.

“Thought maybe today would be the day,” Dean offers with a shrug. His hands are shoved in his pockets, and he approaches her casually.

Rowena pulls a gold key ring from her thin wrist, dangling it in the air. “What are we looking at today, dearie?”

“The problem I'm having,” Dean admits, “is finding something that means something. I look at all this, and I just see... someone else's rings.”

“Then you're here because?” Rowena's got an eyebrow arched, her mouth pulled into a curious curve.  

Dean rests his hip against one of Rowena's shiny glass cases, peering at the rings inside. He doesn't know why he's back, honestly. Everything Rowena has is too flashy. Nothing Cas would ever be excited about, and definitely, nothing Dean's connected with.

“A recommendation?” Dean finally asks, gaze still trained on the jewelry positioned before him.

Rowena's fists find her hips. “I recommend you get your wallet out or get out of my store,” she says, Scottish rogue sharpening her words.

“Don't get me wrong,” Dean counters. “Your merchandise is- impressive. But my- Cas, he's not into the fancy stuff. I'm looking for something unique. Something no one else is gonna have. And simple.”

Rowena's eyes narrow, and she sighs. “You're one of those sentimental saps,” she grumbles. Her voice goes deeper, and she pulls her face into a pout. “No diamonds, Rowena, just a paragraph of my undying love engraved on the inside of your smallest ring.” She waves a hand at him. “Yeah, I know your type.”

Dean eyes her hopefully. “And?”

“And I can't help you,” she says. "I don't carry anything like that."

“But?”

“Oh bawbag, fine! _I_ can't help you, but I know who can.” She pulls a sticky pad off the register, jotting down an address and handing it to Dean. “Max and Alicia, they're twins. They run a custom shop downtown, Barnes' Baubles. Tell them I sent you, and they'll be able to take care of you.” She slides the sticky note to Dean like they're in the middle of a back alley deal.

“Thanks, Rowena,” Dean says, tucking the sticky note just inside his pocket.

“At least bring that boy of yours 'round when you've finally sealed the deal.”

Dean nods, offering her a small salute. “Will do,” he says, and then steps out of the shop and puts the address Rowena gave him into his GPS.

~

The overhead bell offers a cheery tinkling Dean finds out of place in the otherwise New Agey adorned shop. There are crystals, and candles, and herbs all over the shelves, and the whole place has the thick, cloying scent of incense.

A woman, late twenties maybe, pushes through a beaded curtain to stand behind the counter. She's decked in all black, dress drape like and flowy, and there are long silver chains hung round her neck, gathered at the middle by some tassel looking number. This must be Alicia.

“Welcome,” she says, smiling warmly at Dean. He opens his mouth to respond, but Alicia is nudged out of the way by a man, also in black – Max was it, who turns to Alicia.

“I'll get this one,” he says, smiling at her with only his mouth. His eyes tell a different story, and Alicia shakes her head at him, returning his glare.

“I thought we talked about trying to seduce the customers, Max,” she says through gritted teeth, but Max waves her off and turns to Dean.

“Sorry about her. Family, am I right?”

Dean nods once, observing the twins with a reproachful eye. Maybe he would have been better off at Rowena's with all the diamonds and glitz. At least she never tried to flirt with him. (She was too busy trying to swindle him instead.)

Alicia's back in front of the counter now, giving Max a gentle shove in the opposite direction. “What is it I can help you with?” she asks.

“I'm looking for a ring,” Dean explains. “Rowena said to tell you she sent me? I don't know what that's supposed to mean, but.”

“It doesn't mean anything. She says that to everyone.” Alicia waves the comment off and moves to a small binder on the glass countertop. Unlike Rowena's perfectly polished cases the Barnes’ are more worn, framed in gold and draped on the inside with velvet fabric. “We do custom orders, that's probably why she sent you.”

“Oh.”

Opening the binder, Alicia smooths down a page protector, ignoring Max who's standing next to her again, smiling at Dean for no particular reason. It's kind of creepy. “Anything specific?”

“Uh yeah,” Dean clears his throat, “I wanted something simple, but unique. Not something every other guy on the street has.”

“You're getting married,” Alicia points out, face lighting up.

Dean rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I'm hoping to.”

Alicia turns to Max. “Did you hear that, Max? He's getting married. How very unfortunate for you.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," Max counters, "I'm just trying to be polite."

Alicia rolls her eyes, shooing Max to the back. “I can show you what we have,” Alicia offers, sliding the binder towards Dean and flipping it open to a specific tab. Dean looks down and watches Alicia flip through the pages, pointing to certain ones and giving him specific details when he asks for them.

“How long have the two of you been together?” She asks as Dean browses.

“Uh-” He considers lying, afraid his answer might give her the wrong idea. But then decides to fuck it, because who the hell cares? When you know, you know, right? “Almost two months.”

Alicia smiles at him. “You don’t mess around, do you?”

“Not even a little bit.”

When Dean leaves the shop some time later, it’s with a smile on his face.

**:::**

Dean's favorite part of the day is taking care of lunch dishes while watching Jane run around with the chickens in the backyard. Since they moved in with Cas, Jane spends more time outside than she does inside, and Dean's grateful she has the opportunity to explore the world in the way that she does.

He's just rinsing off the last plate when the front door sounds in the entryway behind him. A beat passes, and then Castiel is shuffling into the kitchen with his messenger bag hanging off one shoulder, his face pulled into a frown.

He looks bothered.

“What's up, babe? You okay?” Dean asks over his shoulder, wringing out a washcloth and draping it over the lip of the sink.

Castiel drops his messenger bag onto a nearby barstool and approaches Dean, rests his hands on Dean's shoulders. “You were right,” he says quietly, and Dean frowns.

“I mean, obviously I was right; I'm always right. But about what?” He offers Castiel a soft smile, and one corner of Cas' mouth ticks up in response. He leans in, presses a kiss to Dean's lip, and he's kind of freaking Dean out with his whole quiet, troubled demeanor.

“Doctor Ishim, he-” Castiel heaves a deep sigh, and Dean's stomach drops to his feet. Fuck. “He propositioned me today- in an on-call room.”

Castiel looks so disappointed, heavy in a way, and Dean sees red. “I'll kill him,” Dean grates. “Who the fuck does that asshole think he is? What the fuck- Are you hurt? Did he touch you?”

“Dean.”

Dean breathes deep, tempering his anger and forcing himself to focus on Cas. This is about him, after all.

“I took care of it,” Castiel tells him. “He will not be bothering me again, I just-” He doesn't continue.

“What can I do?” Dean asks, voice steady.

“Just be here,” Cas says quietly, letting his forehead fall gently against Dean's.

Dean moves his hand along Cas' back in slow circles, letting himself relax only when Castiel does. “I'm here, Cas,” Dean assures him like Cas has done so many times for Dean. “Right here.”

They stand that way until Jane bangs into the house, whole face lighting up when she sees Castiel.

“Da’!” She takes off running for Castiel, her wellies squeaking on the tile floor and the backdoor left hanging wide open allowing a few curious chickens to waddle right through.

Castiel swings her into his arms, kissing the top of her head and burying his face in her hair. “How's my angel today?”

“Dood,” Jane says, snuggling up to Castiel. Dean leaves them to shoo the chickens outside and close the door, lest any more of their zoo wander in uninvited.

“I think we need to go do something fun tonight,” Dean offers, making his way back towards them and resting a hip against the countertop. “Do you think Dad's ever been mini golfing?” he asks Jane.

Jane looks up at Castiel, eyes imploring. “Ha’e you?”

“I don't think so,” Castiel admits. “Have you?”

“Yeah,” Jane says with a nod. “One time.”

“What do you say, Cas? Pizza and mini golf? I think we're way overdue for a date.”

Cas smiles warmly at Dean, gratitude apparent on his face. “I'd like that.”

Luckily, it's a Wednesday night, and the Putt-Putt Course is mostly empty. Jane runs around with her putter oh-ing and awe-ing at the water fountain and whacking the ball as hard as she can before Dean shows her the right way.

They're on the third hole when Dean knocks shoulders with Cas, eyes trained on where Jane's standing two feet from the hole her tongue held between her teeth, gearing up to putt. “Hey,” Dean says.

Cas turns his gaze on Dean, smiling gently at him. “Hello.”

“How you doing?” So far Cas hasn't been ready to talk, and that's fine by Dean. The guy's traumatized. But Dean's skin is prickling, and his heart won't stop pounding knowing he can't do anything for Castiel other than offer his moral support.

“I'm more disappointed than anything,” Castiel exhales, shoulders slumping. “Now I'm questioning my whole career. Am I really as good as he says I am, or was he telling me what I wanted to hear?”

“My guess? You're as good as he says you are.”

Cas' smile is soft. “You're biased.”

Dean dips in to press a kiss to Cas' temple. “Did you uh-” Dean scrubs a hand over his mouth. “Did you tell anyone? Aside from me?”

“I spoke to the chief of surgery. She'd like to know what I want to do moving forward.”

“Any ideas?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I'm still processing.”

Jane's victorious squeal draws their attention to where her hands are held above her head, putter discarded on the ground, forgotten. “I di’ it!” She runs up to them, pointing towards her ball resting in the bottom of the hole. “It wen’ in!”

“High five, kid.” Dean offers his daughter a hand, and she smacks it with her own.

“It your turn, Da’.” Jane takes Cas' hand and begins to lead him away from the edge of the green. Dean reaches out and squeezes his bicep before Castiel is too far away.

~

They're laying in bed when Castiel starts to talk again. It's late, Dean's maybe a little more than half asleep, but he hasn't missed the way Cas has remained on his back staring at the ceiling rather than allowing his eyes to close.

“He said he could take care of me,” Castiel mutters into the darkness.

Dean sniffs, rubs his face in his pillow. “Who?” When he's met with silence, Dean cracks an eye open to find Castiel's deep blue stare boring into him. “Oh.” He rolls to his side, holds his arms open for Cas. “C'mere.”

Castiel scoots himself closer, allowing himself to be nestled against Dean's chest.

“Talk to me,” Dean says once he's wrapped around Cas.

Cas breathes against Dean's throat, pressing a kiss there before continuing. “He said he could take care of, spoil me even. And that I'd never have to worry about my career if I were with him.”

 _Fucking bastard,_ Dean thinks.

“He called you and Jane a second-hand family,” Cas says this in a whisper, pushing himself even closer to Dean, leaving no space between them, every part of them touching.

Dean stiffens, stomach rolling over uncomfortably. “That's not how you feel about us though,” he points out.

“Of course not. But it bothers me to know others might.”

They fall quiet for a beat, Castiel's breathing evening out, his body beginning to relax against Deans.

“Did he touch you, Cas?” Dean questions again.

“He didn't get the chance,” Cas says around a yawn, “as soon as he reached for me I had him up against the wall. I think I may have dislocated his shoulder.”

Dean runs a hand through Cas' hair, tugging on the dark curls hugging his ear. “You know it's taking everything inside of me not to tell you to never step foot in the hospital again, right?”

“I know.” Cas' fingers stroke idly at Dean's jaw. “But why should I have to be the one to leave?”

“You shouldn't,” Dean agrees, albeit reluctantly. Cas is right; he shouldn't have to be the one to walk away. But Dean likes the sound of whatever it is that's going to get Cas away from Doctor Fuckface and into a safe and positive work environment.

After that Castiel's the one who drifts off to sleep leaving Dean to lie awake stewing in his own rage.

**:::**

Friday night Castiel comes home from the hospital freshly showered and kissing Dean awake.

“Time issit?” Dean garbles.

“Three.”

“In the morning???”

Castiel chuckles, shuffling around for a moment before he's directing Dean to scoot over – even though the asshole is trying to climb into bed on Dean's side – and throwing himself under the covers, jeans and all.

“How'd it go?” Dean wonders, eyes still closed, and an arm slung lazily over Cas' hip. “Sam called to let me know the meeting was over but didn't give me any details. Jerk said he'd leave that to you.”

Cas is peppering Dean's jaw with kisses, settling a knee between Dean's legs, and it's a goddamn relief to have him acting normal again. The guy was breaking Dean's heart.

“Hmm, it went well. But I went into surgery almost immediately after; that's probably why he called.”

“What's the verdict?” Dean raises his chin at Castiel's request, giving the man access to the sleep warm skin there.

“I'm going to be permanently removed from his service,” Cas mutters against Dean's neck. “They're giving me the week off until the dust between us settles, and I have a signed agreement by the board and Doctor Ishim that everything I was promised before Ishim offered me to be his kept boy still stands. Sam was very helpful on all the legalities.”

“So if you aren't gonna be with him, and he's the head of the whole heart thing, where does that leave you?”

Cas smiles into Dean's skin. “That's the best part,” he breathes. “The chief said she's had an offer for me written up for weeks now. Legally she can't pitch it to me until I've completed my fellowship, but she's been watching my career and was impressed with my success both at John's Hopkins and now here. Since I was beginning to surpass what Doctor Ishim could teach me, she'd already arranged for someone else to come in and take over my training.”

“You mean, Doctor Know-it-all didn't actually know it all?”

Castiel snorts, rolling out of bed. He flicks the fly of his jeans open and lets them drop to the ground, pulling off his shirt and dropping it right beside them. “Hardly,” he says. “The doctor they're bringing in is Madison Hart. She's one of the top cardiothoracic surgeons in the country who has specialized in pediatric care, and she's coming specifically to work with me.”

He's smiling when he climbs back into bed, again on Dean's side, and Dean drags him in, kissing him nice and deep. “I'm so proud of you,” Dean states, his mouth still against Castiel's. “Fuck that guy for ever making you feel less than you really are.”

Cas' fingers weave their way into the hair on Dean's crown. “I'm sorry I didn't listen to you,” he says, voice dipping quiet. "But thank you for believing in me."

“Got nothing to be sorry for, babe. You're safe; your career is safe. Ishim's not going to bother you again. That's all I care about.”

Castiel hums, drawing Dean in for another kiss before they fall asleep curled around each other, the steady beat of Cas' heart warm and constant against Dean's back.

**:::**

“Okay, I can see Sam dragging me to a place like this, but you? Not so much. What gives, Winchester?” Charlie's standing beside Dean outside of Barnes' Baubles, taking in the window displays in absolute bewilderment.

“I know,” Dean says. “It looks like Enya's summer home, but it came highly recommended.”

“By who, Endora?”

Dean snorts a laugh. “Basically.” Opening the door, he ushers her into the shop and approaches the counter on unsteady feet. For the past several weeks, he and Alicia have been working on customizing the perfect ring for Castiel. When he got the call it was finally finished, he felt like he was either going to puke from nerves, or his whole body was going to explode in one big gay burst of happiness.

“Seriously, though,” Charlie hisses while they wait to be helped. “And what's with the box?” She glances at the box on the counter Dean spent a weekend perfecting, a deep cedar number with a satin finish just big enough to fit a ring inside.

At that moment Alicia appears from behind the beaded curtain, smiling at Dean.

“That was fast,” she says.

Dean shoves a hand into his pocket, anxious. “I had a spare minute,” he lies. Actually getting away from Castiel and Jane was quite the feat. It's not like Castiel to be nosy or distrustful, but of course, the one time Dean actually has a secret to keep, the guy wants to know everything.

“Are you ready to take a look?” Alicia asks.

Dean nods. “I think so.”

Charlie watches, puzzled, as Alicia pulls a box from beneath the register and presents it to Dean. He pulls the top off, grin growing on his face as he studies the ring they created. Charlie grabs his wrist, moving it closer to herself and peering inside at the muted silver band lined with Hawaiian koa wood.

The wood hadn't been cheap, nor easy to track down, even for someone in the wood business, but it had all been worth it. He'd spent a good day or two researching different materials and their meanings and durability before settling on the koa. Most of what he could find about the wood said it represented strength and integrity and if that wasn't Castiel in a nutshell, Dean had no idea what was.

“Oh my god, Dean, it's beautiful,” Charlie breathes, hand over her mouth, holding back a smile. “Is it what I think it is?”

Dean looks at Charlie nodding. “I'm gonna ask Cas to marry me.”


	16. Chapter 16

August

“Are we going overboard?” Cas questions out of the corner of his mouth, eyeing the mound of clothes in their cart. Jane's first day of school is in two days, and while it will be good for her -

she'll be working with a speech pathologist, and there will be a nurse on site to manage her diabetes, not to mention all the social development she'll get - Dean is nowhere near prepared to send his baby girl off to a classroom for three hours a day.

He'd enrolled her nearly three months prior, but once the paperwork was filled out, it was out of sight out of mind. That is until he and Cas and Jane were wandering around Target getting Jane school clothes and a new backpack.

“Probably,” Dean observes. “But the kid hardly asks for anything. Kinda hard not to say yes when she finally does find something she wants.”

“And she does need them.”

“That's right,” Dean says, grinning at where Jane's seated in the middle of the shoe aisle, pulling on a pair of deep brown riding boots. “And she looks so damn cute in everything, too.”

“What do you think, bug?” Cas asks, crouching down next to her.

Jane holds her foot up, examining the boot closely. “I wanna wear dem wif my dwess.” She's still got her fucking pacifier glued to her mouth every second of every day, but she has agreed to give it up unless it's naptime or bedtime. Starting Monday.

“I think that would look very nice,” Castiel says. He tugs the boot off her foot and helps her into her own shoe, boxing up the boots and placing them in the cart.

“What else do we need?” Dean asks rhetorically. From where he's standing they've got everything they need and then some.

“Bows,” Jane responds, blinking her huge eyes at Dean, and he's not even going to pretend he tried to say no.

**:::**

“Are all of her supplies in her backpack?” Dean feels like he's been running around in frantic mayhem all morning while Jane and Castiel have sat by quietly watching him suffer.

“They haven't moved from last night, Dean.”

Dean looks down at Jane where she's seated on the couch in the dress and leggings and boots she chose for her first day of school. “Did you brush your teeth, Janie?”

“Yup.”

“Okay. What else?”

Castiel rests his hand on Dean's shoulder, stopping him from pacing. “Dean,” he says, eyes soft.

Dean sighs. “Yeah, okay.”

Cas is smiling at him now, lacing their fingers together and pulling him towards the door. “C'mon Mr. Winchester-Novak. It's time to get our daughter to school.”

Jane leads the way out the door, marching confidently towards the Impala, and Dean wonders when the hell his baby started getting so big.

~

At the school, Jane's met at the door by the school nurse, Carmen.

“Hello, Jane,” she says, offering her hand. Jane grasps it, and she, Dean, and Castiel are led down the hall to Jane's classroom.

 

Mr. Sully is waiting for them in the doorway, smile huge, eyes twinkling. Dean had met him when he'd first been in to sign Jane up, and initially, he'd been weirded out by how fucking happy the guy was, but after talking with the guy and getting a grip on his true passion for teaching, Dean felt a little more at ease.

Mr. Sully could really do with ditching the rainbow suspenders with the striped shirt, though. Not really a great look on anyone.

“Jane Winchester is here!” Mr. Sully announces, throwing his arms out and beaming down at Jane.

“Winchesser-Nodak,” Jane corrects. Dean and Castiel exchange glances, unaware Jane was picking up on their joke.

“Wow! You've gotten bigger since I last saw you, _and_ you've gained another last name.” He points at Jane with a hand on his hip. “You've had a busy summer.”

“I suppose we'll need to have a conversation with her when she gets home today,” Cas tells Dean quietly.

Dean turns, smiles at him. “Or we could just go with it.” His heart is fluttering. It's not like it hasn't crossed his mind, making Cas a legal and official father of Jane; he just hasn't found the right time (or been brave enough) to bring it up.

“Remind me to kiss you nice and dirty when we get home,” Cas mutters, voice pitched low so only Dean can hear.

Dean offers Castiel a salute. “Yes, sir.”

Once Jane's whisked into the classroom, Dean and Castiel, along with a few other parents, stand surrounding the glass window of the room. They watch Jane take her name tag from Mr. Sully and then find a place on the rug next to a little girl with chocolate skin and deep brown eyes.

“Y' think they'll let us stand out here for all three hours?” Dean asks, smiling when Jane giggles at Mr. Sully's puppet, Headbangin' Henry.

“You have work to do,” Castiel points out because someone has to be the rational one in their relationship.

Inside the classroom, a song starts to play, twelve tiny heads bobbing in time to the music.  

“I'll be here when her session is over,” Cas assures Dean, pulling him away from the window.

As he walks away, Dean leaves a little piece of his heart behind.

~

Dean's been watching the clock all morning, counting down the hours until Jane's done with her first day of school and safely back with Castiel. It's almost fifteen past her session end time when Castiel calls.

“How'd she do?” Dean folds his arms across his chest and takes a moment to listen, eyes scanning the project he's due to deliver tomorrow.

“They aren't letting me take her,” Cas says into the phone.

Dean frowns. “What?”

“The secretary said that because I'm not on Jane's emergency contact form they legally cannot let her leave the school with me.”

“Bullshit,” Dean spits. “Didn't they see you with me this morning?”

“They're just following protocol, Dean. Don't be angry.” Castiel's voice is soothing in his ear, and Dean's irritation fades a little. But only a little

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. “So I need to come down there?”

“If you would.”

Dean looks around at his shop. Really he's closer to being done than he originally intended so a few hours away isn't going to set him back at all. “On my way.”

At the school, Jane and Castiel are seated on one of the red leather couches in the foyer. Jane's got Cas' phone in her hands and doesn't even look up when Dean enters the building. Cas does though, his gaze finding Dean's immediately, apology in his eyes.

“Daddy's here,” he says to Jane, nudging her gently. It's only then Jane looks up and offers Dean a grin.

Cas gathers Jane into his arms and carries her to the front desk where Dean's greeting the secretary.

“I'm so sorry, Mr. Winchester. We hate to have to do this, but for your child's safety-”

“I get it,” Dean says. “Thanks for looking out for her.” He'd had the whole drive to get worked up again, and then talk himself out of storming into the joint and letting them know exactly what he thought of them denying Cas permission to take Jane. Plus Cas had said not to be angry, so.

“Would you like to update her paperwork?” The secretary asks, pulling up Jane's form on her computer.

“I'd forgotten all about it,” Dean tells Castiel. “I guess this is on me.”

“How were you to know?” Is Castiel's response, fucking rational bastard.

“So you would like to add-” The secretary stops, looking to Dean and Castiel for a response.

“Castiel Novak,” Dean offers.

The secretary begins tapping away at her keyboard. “And his relation to the child?”

At this Jane pipes in. “Tas is my da’,” she says matter-of-factly.

The secretary glances at Dean, and when he nods, confirming, she enters the information.

After the new form is printed, Dean adds his signature at the bottom, satisfaction blooming in his chest at seeing his and Castiel's names listed next to one another as Jane's parents.

“Thank you, Mr. Winchester,” The secretary says, accepting Dean's updated form. “And I apologize again for the inconvenience. To you also, Mr. Novak.”

“You were just doing your job,” Dean replies, because Castiel has made him into a well adjusted adult these days.

~

On the way home, Jane jabbers on about her first day, telling them all about Mr. Sully (whom she loves) and her new friend Patience, and how she got to use the paint all by herself. By the time they get home, Jane's eyes are already drooping, and Dean carries her in and tucks her into her bed as Charlotte and Cheeseburger settle in the curve of her legs.

Downstairs Castiel is humming a Styxx song and putting together some sandwiches. Dean watches him for a minute, marveling at how absolutely in love with Cas he is, and how even after just over two months together, waking up to the guy every morning still feels like a blessing.

“I might be home late tonight,” Dean says before he realizes he's even talking. “Gotta meet with Sam for a bit.”

“Alright.”

Before Dean heads back to work, Castiel slings his arms around Dean's waist, pulling him close and kissing him. “You forgot to remind me.” he says, running his tongue along the seam of Dean's lips.

Dean smiles into the kiss, opening his mouth and letting Castiel in. “Sorry, sir.”

“Don't let it happen again.”

**:::**

Sam is just getting home when Dean walks in through the mudroom, toeing out of his boots and washing his hands in the big basin sink. He's gone over things in his head all day, how he'd approach Sam, what he'd say, but with Sam actually here, the words aren't exactly flowing.

“Dean, what's wrong?” Sam's forehead is lined with concern as he slips out of his suit coat and hangs his bag on a hook by the door.

“Nothing,” Dean says, maybe a little too quickly. “I just wanted to talk for a second.”

“Okay.” Sam stands in the entryway, waiting for Dean to speak, but it doesn't feel right, talking about it right here, it's not that easy.

“Maybe in your office? I kinda need lawyer-you.”

Sam's frown deepens. “Are you in trouble?” he asks, and Dean scoffs at him.

“Sam, when was the last time I was 'in trouble'? Eight years ago? Maybe even ten? Give me some credit here.”

“Okay, I just- I'm sorry, you're just scaring me.”

Dean sighs, putting a hand on his brother's back and pushing him towards the office. “Nothing to be scared of, Sammy, I promise. Everything's good.”

In the office, Sam settles behind his desk and Dean makes himself comfortable in one of the plush chairs opposite Sam. Sam's not really a showy guy, he's actually pretty humble for how successful he is, but his indulgences sometimes make no sense to Dean. Like a complete set of Encyclopedia Britannica, (nestled on the shelf behind him) or the bronzed Scales of Justice resting neatly in the center of his desk.

At least the kid had half a mind to let Dean do the furniture. (Yeah that's his handiwork on the cherry wood desk and matching shelves, thank you very much.)

Sam crosses a leg over his knee, leaning back in his chair and looking at Dean. “So.”

“So what would it take for Cas to be able to adopt Jane?” And yeah, it's not really the way Dean planned it, just blurting it out like that. He'd had a whole preamble written up in his head and some very convincing arguments he'd make if Sam put up a fight, but there it is, out in the open, no way to take it back now.

Sam is silent for a beat, obviously processing the words. “Dean this is-”

“It's big, I know,” Dean cuts in. “But Sam, he couldn't even pick her up from school today because his name wasn't on her stupid form. Shit like that's just gonna keep happening, and it sucks. He's her dad now, just like me. For Cas' sake, and for Jane's, I think it's time I looked into making that a more permanent detail.”

He fixes his eyes on his brother, silently pleading with him to just be on board with this. There are enough people that would tell Dean this is a terrible idea. He doesn't need his brother to be one of them.

Sam clears his throat. “Dean, as your lawyer, I'm legally bound to let you know this is a very big step. Possibly even bigger than marriage.”

Dean deflates into his chair, knowing it might have been too much to ask to get through this without hearing something along those lines at least once. “I know, Sammy. But Cas is it for me. And I think he's it for Jane, too. She called him dad all on her own, she trusts him just like she does me or you.” Dean scrubs a hand over his face. “He's it, Sam.”

“As your lawyer, I have to ask: are you sure you'd like to move forward with this?” His face is so neutral it's getting under Dean's skin. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“I have a ring, Sam,” Dean confesses. “It's a sure thing.”

Sam nods. Steeples his fingers beneath his chin. “As your lawyer, I'd suggest you wait until after a wedding.” Dean opens his mouth to protest, but Sam holds up a hand, stopping him. “But as your brother, I'd suggest we get you those papers tonight.”

Tears Dean did not expect prick his eyes, and a warm lump rises in his throat. “Thanks, Sammy,” he manages, wiping at his eyes.

Sam's smile is wide. “Are you kidding, Dean? Cas is one of the best things I've ever seen happen to you. If you guys aren't forever, there's no hope for any of us.”

Dean chokes back a laugh. “Okay, Delilah. Can we get this started so I can go love someone tonight?”

Sam smirks at him and begins clicking away at his computer.

**:::**

“Hey.” Dean holds his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, drizzling wood glue down the side of a shelf before sticking it to its base. It’s Friday and he’s eager to get home, Cas and Jane there waiting for him.

Castiel sighs on the other line before responding. “Hello.”

“What's up? You sound tired.”

“Someone's being a grumpopotamus today,” Castiel says.

Dean stands up straight, giving Castiel his full attention. Jane is a good kid, a great kid really, and 90% of the time she has no issues. But on the rare occasion – that dreaded ten percent – Jane is a force to be reckoned with. “Uh oh, what happened?”

“Jane refused her nap today.” Castiel informs Dean. “She claimed she wasn't tired. She wouldn't even lie down.”

“Where's the rug rat right now?”

“She's sitting in front of the chicken coop crying. Or perhaps wailing would be a better description of what she's doing. I'm sure the neighbors have contacted CPS. God knows they can hear her.”

Dean's first instinct is to laugh. It's probably not funny to Cas, or to Jane, but Cas has never really experienced one of Jane's tantrums. While Dean's heart goes out to the guy, he's selfish enough to be grateful he's not alone in this anymore.

“Why's she crying by the coop?” Dean wonders.

“I locked it. Obviously, she shouldn't be playing outside when she's disobeyed me.” Castiel pauses. When he speaks again his voice is tentative. “Right?”

When Dean doesn't answer, Castiel huffs across the line. “Dean? What do you think?”

Dean almost gives Castiel his opinion, almost tells him exactly how he'd handle the situation. But they've discussed Jane and how to deal with her here and there in the past; Cas knows Dean is against spanking and agreed he is too. They also decided there would be no good cop bad cop, no bribing, and that they'd never use empty threats. Other than that, they agreed they'd learn as they went.

For Castiel, this is going to have to be one of those times.

“I think you're the one home with her right now,” Dean finally answers. “And I trust your judgment on how you want to handle this.”

“Dean-”

Dean chuckles. He can't help himself. Cas sounds almost desperate. “If CPS shows up, give me a call. Otherwise, I'll be home in a couple hours.”

“So help me, Winchester.”

“I love you, Cas. Take care of our daughter.” After that Dean hangs up. It might be kind of a dick move, to shove Cas into open water like he is, but he was serious when he said he trusts the guy. That in and of itself is kind of a big deal.

~

At home, Dean can hear the crying as soon as he approaches the door. He steps inside just as Castiel is carrying Jane from the backyard into the house.

“Still?” Dean asks.

Cas lets Jane slip out of his arms and onto the floor where she runs straight for Dean. “Again,” Castiel explains. “She fell asleep on the porch swing, but I didn't want her to not be tired when it was time for bed so I woke her up.”

 _Good call_ , Dean thinks. He would've done the same thing. He pats the top of Jane's head where she's wrapped around his leg, sobbing 'Daddy' over and over again into his dusty jeans.

“What's she supposed to be doing now?” Dean questions.

“Washing her hands. I wanted to have dinner ready when you got home, but-” His shoulders slump, defeated, eyes careful, apologetic.

Dean reaches out and tugs Castiel in by his (actually it's Dean's) T-shirt. “Hey,” he says, quiet. He kisses Cas, letting their mouths linger together for a moment. “I'll take care of dinner, okay? You just worry about Jane.”

Cas nods, solemn, and Dean extracts himself from Jane's python grip.

“It's time to wash your hands, Jane,” Castiel says. “If you won't do it yourself then I'll help you.”

Jane lets out a high pitched scream, slumping to the floor, huge tears streaming down her cheeks. “I don't want to!” she announces, then looks up at Dean. “Daddy!”

Dean wants to scoop her up and hold her until she's able to calm down, he wants to hold Cas, too until he doesn't look so defeated. Instead, he looks down at her and says, “Listen to your dad, Jane.” And walks into the kitchen.

~

Dean whips up something quick and easy for dinner, and Cas, somehow, gets Jane to wash her hands. She's sniffling when Castiel scoots her up to the table but isn't crying anymore, and Dean hopes Cas understands that's a win.

“You feeling okay today, baby girl?” Dean asks because he's learned if Jane's unhappy it's almost always because something's up with her diabetes.

Jane huffs at Dean, frowning down at her dinner and continues to eat. Dean quirks a brow at Cas.

“We checked right after school and again when she'd calmed down long enough for me to get a poke, both times everything was normal,” he offers.

“Did she eat at all when she got home?”

Cas shakes his head, pushing food around on his plate. “I offered, but she said no.”

When Dean looks back at Jane her head is drooping, eyelids heavy. Dean motions towards her with his head, and Castiel looks, too.

“Janie,” Castiel calls gently, “why don't you finish eating and then you can take a bath before bed, okay?”

Jane blinks at Castiel, frown still etched deep between her eyes. “Tay,” she says, admitting defeat.

Dean offers Castiel a smile, and Castiel sighs, sinking into his chair in relief.

~

Jane finishes her food quickly, and Cas excuses himself to run her a bath like he'd promised. When Dean joins them, Castiel is rubbing a sudsy loofa over Jane's back, listening to how her day was at school. She sniffles every now and then, her body still calming down, and when she's been scrubbed clean, Dean lets out the bathwater while Castiel wraps her in a big fluffy towel.

When Jane is in her pajamas and tucked into bed, Dean slips out of the room when Castiel starts in on a story.

Dean's in their bathroom brushing his teeth when Castiel comes in gloriously bare-chested and in a pair of Dean's lounge pants. Poor guy looks exhausted.

“She asleep?” Dean asks, spitting into the sink and turning on the faucet to wash it away.

Cas nods, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I'm sorry,” he says, voice quiet.

Dean drops his toothbrush into the ridiculous toothbrush holder Castiel insisted on – really what was so wrong with a cup – and turns to face the other man.

“What are you sorry for?”

“For setting Jane off today.”

“Cas, it was an off day. Off days happen, even with kids. It's got nothing to do with you or the way you were with her. Shit would've gone down the same way if it had been me.”

Cas looks down at his feet. “Would it have? I haven't ever seen her act that way with you.”

Dean's heart sinks at Cas' implication. He can't imagine what it must feel like to have come into Jane's life during this stage and immediately being willing to accept joint responsibility for her. Dean had months to prepare for fatherhood (not that you can ever really be prepared), Castiel was an insta-dad.

“Days like this are rare for Jane,” Dean explains, “but that doesn't mean they haven't happened before or won't happen again. You did great with her, Cas. She was fed and bathed, she went to bed happy. My guess is she'll wake up tomorrow, and everything will be fine.”

“I felt incredibly inadequate today.”

Dean fixes his hand to where Cas' hip is peeking over the waistband of his pants. “You're a dad now, Novak,” Dean says. “Feeling like you're not cut out for fatherhood just comes with the job.”

Cas lets Dean kiss him on the cheek before reaching for his own toothbrush. Dean gives him space while he gets ready for bed and is just slipping beneath their comforter when Castiel flicks off the bathroom light and pads into the bedroom.

He sits on the edge of the bed, back curving when he rests his hands on either side of him, his shoulder muscles flexing, and Dean tries not to stare. He fails miserably, but at least he tries.

When Castiel doesn't say anything Dean wiggles out from beneath the covers and tugs Cas onto the bed, pushing him into their pillows and settling himself on top of him. “Babe, you were perfectly in control of the situation, okay? Everything you did, is exactly what I would've done. And I'm sorry I didn't help out more, I just-” Dean swallows, "I just felt like you needed to do this one on your own, so Jane would understand you're owed just as much respect as I am."

“I understand,” Castiel finally concedes, acceptance in his eyes.

Dean smiles, settling his hands on either side of Cas' head.

“Now,” he says, dipping to nip at Cas' jaw. “Why don't you just lay back and let me take care of you.”  

Cas' body goes pliant underneath him, and not much later Cas falls asleep happy, too.


	17. Chapter 17

September

The bar is smokey and smells like fried food, but it's been forever since Dean and Castiel had a night to themselves, so Dean ain't gonna complain. Besides, places like this used to be his usual haunts back in the day – the familiarity is... not unwelcome, and the beer is good, so.

Jody and Alex are up on the stage belting out “One Way or Another,” and Cas is settled into the booth next to him, a loose, happy smile on his face.

“Don't let me get so drunk I won't be able to get lucky tonight,” Dean rumbles in Cas' ear. He's never really been good at pacing himself.

“If you don't get lucky, that means I don't either, so.” Cas points at his eyes, then at Dean's, brows raised in warning.

A shiver runs down Dean's spine. Fucking hot ass doctor.

After Jody and Alex, it's Meg with a horrible rendition of “Demon's Kiss,” and Blue Öyster Cult will never be the same for Dean.

By the time she's done, Dean's made it through another beer and is feeling just buzzed enough to get up and do a little singing himself. He sings “Cherry Pie,” pointing at Cas as he does, and grinning like the devil when Cas blushes under the attention.

 

When he lands back in the booth, Castiel tugs him in for a kiss. “That was both embarrassing and incredibly hot,” he states, lips brushing Dean's ear. Going out is great and all, but a night in isn't sounding too bad either right about now.

“You ready to get out of here?” Dean asks; Cas' naked body tangled with his, sweaty, and panting, and raging with hormones is about the only thing he can think at this point.

He's a simple man with simple needs.

“We've only been here an hour,” Cas points out, dipping a fry into the ramekin of ketchup in front of him. “I think they're going to hop in about thirty minutes. We can leave then?”

“Not a second later,” Dean agrees with a nod.

“I'm watching the clock.”

~

They're in the car making out when Cas' stupid phone buzzes in the cup holder. Dean pulls away, smacking his lips. “If that's even the hospital-”

“It's my mother,” Castiel counters, eyes scanning the lit up screen in the otherwise dark interior of his car.

“Tell her I said her timing is impeccable,” Dean slurs, showing Cas an OK sign. Castiel sighs, clicking off his phone and drawing Dean in again. “What'd she want?” Dean asks, mouth moving with Cas'. He may be in his thirties, and it may take a lot more to get him going than it did when he was a teenager, but making out with Castiel is about the hottest thing – next to actually seeing him naked.

“She wants to talk about our house. I'm sure she's going to want to sell it.”

Dean moans into Cas' mouth, the guy has got a magical tongue or something because Dean feels like he's on fire, lit up from the inside. “Good thing I still have my apartment,” Dean comments, eyes closed, mouth still so close to Cas'. But Cas is there and then he isn't, and when Dean opens his eyes, he finds Cas backed up against his door, disbelief cloaking his features.

“What?” Castiel asks.

Dean panics. He hadn't meant to say that. Hadn't meant for Cas to ever find out. He was going to take care of it, he just- hasn't yet.

“I didn't mean-” Dean stops. “It's not-” Fuck.

“Why do you still have it?” Castiel asks, voice eerily steady.

“I don't know,” Dean admits, “it used to be just in case.” He hadn't meant to say that either - he's never admitted that out loud to anyone come to think of it.

“Just in case _what_?”

Alcohol churns in Dean's stomach.

And things had been going so well. Too well, apparently.

“Y'know,” Dean mumbles, waving a hand in the air, too cowardly to look Castiel in the eyes. “Just in case this was all too much for you. But that was-”

“Just in case I left you?”

Dean finally makes eye contact with the other man, and Cas looks hurt more than anything. When Dean says nothing, Cas' mouth twists into a scowl, and he turns away from Dean, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot in silence.

They drive like that for awhile before Dean gets the nerve to speak up. “Look,” he starts, “I get that you're angry, but if I can just explain-”

“I'm not angry, Dean,” Castiel counters. “I'm _crushed_. I don't know why I was led to believe you'd worked through your mistrust, but obviously, I was sorely mistaken.” He rolls to a stop at a red light, glancing in Dean's direction.

“Do you really not see how badly I want to be in your and Jane's lives? Because I've done all that I can to help make everything fit, and I had thought it was enough, but.” Cas shakes his head. He looks back at the street light, pressing on the gas when the light turns green.

“It was a mistake,” Dean bites. “ A huge fucking mistake.”

~

When they pull into the driveway, Castiel turns off the car, enveloping them in darkness. “I’d hoped after three months together you’d already know this, but it appears I have to spell it out for you so I will: I'm in this, Dean,” Cas’ voice is edged with defiance. “Are you?”

He doesn't wait for a response, climbing out of the car, not even bothering to take the keys with him, and making his way towards the door leaving Dean to mull in his own self-loathing in peace.

A few minutes later Charlie's tapping on the window, face pulled into a concerned frown. “Everything okay?” she asks when Dean rolls down the window.

Dean scrubs his hands over his face, sighing into them and avoiding Charlie's gaze. “I fucked up,” he garbles against his palms.

“You never took care of the apartment, and Cas found out about it.”

Hearing Charlie say it makes it sound even worse. He waits for Charlie's “I told you so” - she had after all - but it never comes. Instead, she rests her hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezes.

“Buck up, Winchester,” she says. “Don't let this be it until you've done everything you can to make it right.”

When Dean finally blinks up at her, she offers him a soft smile. “Thanks, Bradbury.”

Dean climbs out of the car, stretching and giving Charlie a hug before making sure she gets into her car without any trouble. As she rolls past him, her passenger side window goes down, and she leans across the seats. “Get in there, Dean. Your hubby's waiting.”

Dean gives her a small wave and turns towards the front door. “Doubt it,” he mutters.

~

Cas is already in bed when Dean finally steps inside. Their bedroom light is off, and Dean can just make out the Castiel-shaped lump buried under their down comforter. Tucking himself away in their closet, Dean rids himself of his clothes and pulls on a pair of lounge pants before making his way towards the bed.

He stands staring down at the empty space next to Cas. Instead of getting in next to him, Dean pulls a pillow off the bed.

“I'll be on the couch,” he says.

He's on his way to the door when Cas' voice can be heard from beneath the covers. “Fine.”

~

As soon as Dean's head hits the pillow, his mind is reeling. How could things have gotten so bad so quickly? And how the hell is he going to fix this? _Can_ he fix this?

He spends over two hours downstairs, staring at the ceiling and hating himself down to his very core. It's like leaving Cas behind in that hotel room all over again. He thinks about going in with Jane, lying next to her until he's exhausted enough to fall asleep, but this isn't Jane's problem to fix. This is Dean's problem.

With a sigh Dean climbs off the couch, carrying his pillow back upstairs and pushing into his and Cas' room, movements quiet.

He's lingering on his side of the bed again, terrified he'll be kicked out, but then Charlie's words come back to him. _Don't let this be it until you've done everything you can to make it right._

“If you're awake and you don't want me in the bed, say so now.” Dean waits for a response, and when there isn't one, he permits himself to slide onto the mattress and throw the covers over him.

“Hey,” he whispers, moving in close to Cas, fitting their bodies together and settling an arm around Cas' middle.

Castiel fits his fingers between Dean's where they rest on Cas' abdomen, and Dean breathes a sigh of relief. “This doesn't mean we don't need to talk about this,” Cas says into his pillow.

“I know,” Dean responds, he just has no idea what to say.

**:::**

Dean wakes up alone, a suitcase open and half full on the end of the bed, and no Castiel in sight. He feels cold all over as he sits and surveys the contents of the suitcase, Cas' shoes, Cas' socks, Cas' toothbrush.

Castiel exits the closet with a few more things in his hands, folding them neatly and tucking them against one another in the luggage.

“You're leaving?” Dean asks, hating how his voice cracks, helpless.

“I have a conference, back in Maryland. I told you a few weeks ago. You were there when I bought my plane ticket.” Cas doesn't meet Dean's eyes, holding two ties in his hands and assessing them before draping one over his suitcase and taking the other one back to the closet.

When he's at the foot of the bed again, he looks up. “Did you not expect me to go?” he asks, tone almost chastising.

 _Yes_ , Dean thinks, because Cas can't leave right now. Not like this. “I guess not.”

“It's only a few days, Dean. You and Jane will be fine here without me.”

“Nothing about this is fine, Cas. We need you. _I_ need you,” Dean snaps, combing his fingers through his hair. He hates the slump of Cas' shoulders, and the destroyed look in his eyes. He hates that he did that to Cas. But the guy's not even going to stick around long enough for them to work this out? He'd said they needed to talk.

Castiel sighs, pauses in his packing and locking his gaze on Dean's. “I need time to think,” he explains quietly. “I can't do that here. Please just give me some time, Dean. Please.”

It kills Dean to agree, but what kind of an asshole would he be to deny Cas what he needs most right now?

~

On his way out the door, Castiel pads into Jane's room and kisses her forehead, running his fingers through her hair.

“You'll tell her I'll call?” he asks when he joins Dean in the hall.

Dean nods, “Yeah, course.” He waits for Cas' next move, now so unsure of whether his touch will be welcomed or not.

“I'll let you know when I get in.” Cas offers and the air around them is so thick, so awkward Dean wants to punch something. He merely nods again. Cas moves in, presses his mouth to Dean's and backs away just as quickly. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too.”

**:::**

“How long is he going to be gone for?” Charlie's at Dean's shop, checking in on her way to pick up Jane from school.

Dean shrugs. “He said a few days.”

“And you didn't tell him about the ring or anything?”

Dean looks over at Charlie, at her purple Princess Leia graphic-tee and her arms folded across her chest. “I didn't want him to feel like I was only doing it to get him to stay. It can't be like that, Charlie. He has to know it's real. Even more so now.”

“Fair enough,” Charlie comments, nudging a discarded board with her boot. “Are you going to talk to him about the apartment? He needs to know the whole story, Dean. It's not exactly fair of him to assume when he hasn't taken the time to listen.”

“It is when I told him I still had it as a backup plan,” Dean admits, sighing.

Charlie clucks her tongue at him. “Oh, Dean.”

“I told you, Bradbury, I fucked up. I was drunk - wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders, but it definitely wasn't my most shining moment.”

“But you're going to fix it,” she tells him with finality, and yeah, he sure as hell hopes so.

**:::**

Jane's bouncing up and down on her pajama bottomed butt, watching the screen as it dials Cas' account. She's already got her pacifier in, ready for bed, but it's night two of Cas being gone, and she thinks Skype's about the greatest thing in the world, so she's not going anywhere until she gets her fix.

Cas finally appears on the screen, and he's frowning, face close to the camera. “Can you see me, bug?”

Jane giggles and nods. “Dah.”

“Good. Tell me about your day.”

“At stool, Mr. Sully blowed us bubbles.”

“Oh yeah? Did you catch any?”

Jane nods. “Wif my ton’ue and my fienders.”

“Your tongue and your fingers?” Castiel asks, tone impressed and brows raised.

“Dah.” Jane squeezes her stuffed monster to her chest, grinning wide at Cas around her pacifier.

“Are you being a good girl for daddy?”

Jane's head bobs in response.

As Castiel and Jane's conversation carries on, Dean's mind wanders, going over and over everything he has to say to Cas. It's not anything that can be said over Skype, but he wants it all to be right by the time Castiel gets home.

Within ten or so minutes, Jane's telling Castiel goodbye and handing the iPad to Dean.

“Hop into bed, and I'll be there in a second, okay kiddo?”

Jane slips off the bed, feet hitting the ground with a quiet thud. “Tay,” she says as she disappears around the corner.

When Dean hears Jane's door open, he looks down at where Cas is still on the screen. “How's it going?” Dean wonders.

“As well as you could expect. The sessions are long and some of the content is boring, but Madison was captivating when she presented. I’m incredibly lucky to be on her service.”

“That's awesome.”

Cas nods, and Dean rubs the back of his neck. “So uh-” Dean pauses, not wanting to say anything to rock the proverbial boat. “You're coming back, right?” Castiel opens his mouth to respond, eyes going hard, but Dean continues on in a rush. “I mean I get it, you need your space, and I fucked up. Royally. But I just wanted to- I have a lot to say before we- decide what to do moving forward.”

Cas expression softens, and he nods. “I'll be in late tomorrow night.”

Dean's grinning now, heart leaping hopefully in his chest. “Good.” He says, “'Cause I have a present for you.”

**:::**

The following day Dean's an absolute mess of nerves. He doesn't hear from Cas other than a single text with flight information, and he can't get a straight read on the guy. It's driving him crazy.

“This is the right thing,” Charlie tells him at lunch. Her face is stuffed full of a baked potato and she looks absolutely ridiculous, but Dean loves her fiercely for being there for him through all of his 'white boy man pain' as she calls it. “Just be honest,” she reminds him, “don't leave out any details. He deserves to know everything.”

“You're right,” Dean agrees, “he does.”

~

Long after Jane has gone to bed, Dean's still too jittery to sleep. He turns on a scalding shower, hoping it will help him relax, then climbs into bed waiting for sleep to claim him, or for Castiel to get home.

He'll take whichever comes first.

~

It's nearing two in the morning when the bedroom door opens, and Dean hopes to god it's Cas because he drifted off without even putting clothes on. After a beat Cas appears at Dean's side, looming over him in the darkness.

“Hello,” Cas whispers. He bends to kiss Dean, and it's almost like everything's okay between them. Almost.

“Hey,” Dean says back. He threads his fingers through the thick tufts of hair at the back of Cas' skull and holds him close. “You smell like an airplane.”

Cas' mouth curves against Dean's. “Are you really that concerned about it, or is that just a ploy to get me naked?”

“What do you think?” Dean smirks, even though he knows Cas can't see it.  

The room falls silent, and Castiel sits up, pressing a hand to Dean's chest, fingers rubbing gently over his skin; it's like being touched by him for the first time all over again. “I want you to get rid of the apartment,” Cas says, quiet but sure.

Dean slides a hand over Cas'. “Why don't you go shower, and then we'll talk. And there's that present to be opened, remember?”

Castiel doesn't respond right away, but when he does it's with a nod. “Okay.” He bends to kiss Dean one more time, and then he's gone.

~

Out of the shower and in a clean pair of boxer briefs, Castiel throws back the covers to climb into bed. He eyes Dean's naked form in the gentle light falling from Dean's bedside lamp.

“Is this my present?” he asks, resting against the headboard and pulling the comforter over himself.

Dean chuckles, shakes his head. “It's the after party,” he quips, and Castiel huffs, shaking his head.

They're quiet again, Dean staring down at the manila envelope in his hands, and Castiel staring at Dean. Finally, with a tremble, Dean hands the envelope to Cas.

“Here are all my secrets,” Dean says. “Everything I've kept from you is in that envelope.”

“Dean.”

“Please, Cas. I want you to know. All of it.”

 

With a nod, Castiel flips open the envelope and tugs out the papers that are inside, leaving the remaining contents resting at the bottom. As his eyes scan the page, first flicking back and forth, and then coming to a stop, his whole face contorts into awe.

“These are adoption papers,” Cas breathes, looking up at Dean, tears in his eyes.

“Look at the date.”

Castiel looks back down, finding where Sam had put the date. “This was a month and a half ago.”

“And I'd been thinking about it longer than that, but after the whole, you picking Jane up from preschool situation is when I really knew it was the right thing to do.”

“Dean, I don't know what to say.”

“There's more,” Dean urges gently.

Castiel sets the adoption papers delicately at his side, letting his hand rest on them for a second or two before looking at the next page. He frowns.

“A lease cancellation?”

“Everything's on there, Cas. When Jane and I moved I'd already paid through this month. The only finances that have gone towards the place since then are the fees I paid to back out of my lease. That's my signature right there showing as of October first I am no longer a tenant. See the date on this one?”

“The day after the one on the adoption papers. But Dean, you’d already lived here for almost three months.”

Dean nods. “Exactly, Cas. Three months. You know most people haven't even said I love you at that point? And I was getting ready to ask you if you wanted to adopt Jane, make everything official in the eyes of the state. After only three months. You think that's something I would do if I was still scared? If I didn't trust you?”

“No,” Cas admits.

“It _was_ a fallback. And when it wasn't anymore I went to take care of it right away. I'm sorry it took me that long to know. And I'm sorry I didn't say anything about it sooner, but I'm telling the truth here, Cas. I _was_ scared – past tense. I'm not scared now. I haven't been for awhile.”

Castiel looks at him for a long time, and Dean can see the wheels turning in his head, processing Dean's words. “Okay,” he eventually says with a nod.

“Okay,” Dean sighs because Castiel is the actual best goddamn human alive, and Dean was somehow lucky enough to end up with him in his life. “You uh- you wanna see the rest?”

Cas tips the envelope upside down, small box landing in his lap and receipt fluttering out behind it. He picks up the receipt first, and Dean points out the date a final time. “August 2nd.” He looks up at Dean.

“August second, Cas. That's how long I've been planning on asking you to marry me.”

Castiel looks stunned blinking down at the box in his lap, picking it up with careful hands and flipping the top open. Inside is the ring Dean had helped design and make, and Dean might actually puke if the silence continues to drag on the way it is.

“I didn't ask you right then because of the other stuff I wanted to get in order first,” Dean starts carefully. “But I knew the right time was coming, and I wanted to be prepared for it when it did. I didn't know if it was going to be at some fancy-ass restaurant where I couldn't even read the menu, or in the hallway right after tucking Jane in. But I knew I'd know when the right time came, and right here, in our bed, with you pissed as hell at me, I know it's the right time. Because I know we're going to get through this and any other bullshit that comes our way.”

Cas is still blinking down at the ring. Silent, still.

“I've never been so sure of anything in my life. You're it for me, Cas, and I- I hope I'm, I hope _we're_ it for you, too.”

At that Castiel reaches out, dragging Dean in for a kiss, his lips on Dean's frantic and needy. “Yes,” he says, tears falling, mixing with Dean's own. “Yes, Dean. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. _Yes_.” When he pulls away, he holds Dean's face in his hands, eyes so deep, so clear.

“Me, too,” Dean says, putting a hand over Cas'. “I'm all in.”


	18. Chapter 18

January

Cas has been at the hospital for almost three days straight. Dean has grown used to the chaotic schedule his husband keeps, but that doesn't mean he doesn't miss the hell outta the guy when he's gone.

After dropping Jane off at school, Dean's considering swinging by the hospital to say hi when his phone rings. It's Cas.

"We must have that creepy, read-each-other's-mind thing going on, ‘cause I was just gonna call you."

He doesn't see Castiel's smile over the line, but he can hear it in his voice. "Must be a married thing," he jokes, and a balloon of warmth inflates in Dean's chest.

Their engagement had been short, their wedding a simple number at the courthouse with Sam and Sarah, Naomi, Gabriel, Charlie, and of course Jane there to witness it. And now Dean's a married man. He's a husband. And life doesn't get much better than that.

Right?

"What's up?" Dean asks.

"Can you get away for an hour or so? I- I have someone I want you to meet." Dean can hear the urgency in his husband's - husband's! - voice.

"I think I can swing by."

"You'll be prompt?"

Dean rolls his eyes. Cas always has been an impatient bastard. "Yes, dear."

"I'll see you soon. I love you."

"I love you," Dean responds.

At the hospital, Dean's greeted by Sarah and whisked to the nurse's station before he can even ask where Castiel is.

"You need to sign these," she says, handing him a small stack of papers. "And then I can take you back."

Dean frowns looking down at the topmost page. "Volunteer, I don't-"

"Just do it," Sarah urges, handing him a pen. Dean's not quite sure what the hell the two of them are up to, but he can't say no to a pregnant lady, so he signs the papers and follows Sarah through a set of doors and towards a sign that says Newborn Nursery.

He can see Castiel through the windows, wild hair barely held at bay by his ridiculous scrub cap, and a fair amount of stubble gracing his jaw. Dude's been so busy he hasn't even had time to shave.  Or maybe he's just trying to sexually frustrate Dean. Either way, it's not a bad look.

Around the corner, Sarah helps Dean into a sterile gown, and when the doors slide open to permit Dean inside, Cas is there, grinning.

"I'll leave you to it," she tells Castiel, offering him a supportive smile. Cas nods his thanks.

"What do you have up your sleeve today, Novak?" Dean asks, unable to hide his own returning smile.

"Winchester-Novak," Castiel corrects, waving Dean inside. "Follow me."

They wind through rows of tiny sleeping babies - and a few crying ones, too - and to a far corner where Cas stops, standing over a beautiful baby with caramel colored skin, and thick dark curls haloing her head. Her deep eyes squint up at Castiel in familiarity.

"Hey, bumblebee," Castiel coos down at the baby. He offers her his finger, and she takes hold of it, squeezing. "Do you want to hold her?" Castiel asks, looking back at Dean.

"Isn't this against some kind of law? Are you gonna get fired?"

Castiel shakes his head. "You signed the volunteer forms?"

Dean nods.

"We're not breaking any laws."

Dean looks down at the newborn, hands moving of their own accord to reach in and gently lift her into his arms. Ever since Jane's adoption went through, Castiel has been one baby-hungry son of a gun, talking nonstop about expanding their family and dropping hints every chance he can get. Luring Dean in to hold babies is nowhere near discreet.

"She was born four days ago," Cas explains when the baby is nestled in the crook of Dean's arm. Cas' fingers brush gently over her curls, his thumb stroking her forehead. "Her mother died about two hours after the birth."

Dean chuckles, no humor in his tone. "Welcome to the world, baby girl," he mutters, heart aching for her.

"Her mother was the only living family she had; now she's in the care of the state. When she's ready to go home, it will be to a foster family."

Dean studies the infant's face, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a smile when her tiny mouth opens wide in a yawn. "I forgot how fucking beautiful babies are," he tells Cas quietly. He tries to resist the urge of bringing her head to his nose and breathing in, but it's been years since he's held someone this little in his arms, inhaled that perfect baby scent.

"Dean," Castiel says, drawing Dean's attention away from the baby.

When Dean looks up he's quieted by the raw look in Cas' eyes, his gaze wide open and hopeful. "I want to adopt her."

**:::**

"You realize this is the first time this week you'll be sleeping in our bed?"

Castiel is joining Dean under the covers, guiding Dean to his back and leaning in to press kisses to his mouth, his jaw, his bare chest. Cas hums in response, kissing Dean's sternum and his neck.

"We could turn the guest room into a nursery," he mutters against Dean's ribs. "And you could move your shop here so one of us will always be home."

Castiel settles his knees on either side of Dean's hips. "I could take paternity leave, be a stay at home dad for a couple of months while we find our groove."

"Hey," Dean says, reaching up to catch Cas' face between his palms. He smiles gently, brushing a thumb along Cas' cheekbone. Leave it to Castiel to fall in love with a baby in under a week and offer his home without any doubt in his mind it's the right thing to do. "You don't have to convince me."

Cas frowns, "I don't understand."

"Let's do it," Dean says. "Let's bring that baby girl home."

**:::**

The process isn't exactly smooth, and Castiel ends up sleeping more nights at the hospital than he does at home, but it's a temporary situation, and it's all going to be worth the wait in the end.

When the paperwork is started, they bring Jane in, let her press her nose up against the window while Cas holds the baby up for her to see. "That's your new sister," Dean tells her, voice thick and eyes misty.

Jane stares at the newborn in awe, eyes twinkling. "Tan I hold her?"

"Not yet," Dean says, brushing a hand over Janes' head, tugging on an errant curl before tucking it behind her ear. "But when she comes home, you can hold her all the time."

"Otay," Jane agrees, nodding. Her eyes don't leave the baby once.

**:::**

Cas' fingers are practically trembling as he buckles their sleeping infant daughter into her car seat. "Are you sure this is the correct way?" he asks, tugging on the strap.  

"I promise."

Across the bench, Jane's already buckled in, and she's kicking her feet happily, singing some made up song to the baby.

Castiel holds the door open for a beat, and Dean wraps an arm around his waist. "She's gonna be okay," he mutters in Cas' ear. "And I told you, this feeling never goes away. We're just gonna have to roll with it. Get comfortable with being uncomfortable."

With a steadying breath Castiel nods and finally allows the door to be closed, sliding into the front seat next to Dean.

The whole way home traffic is light, and when they pull into the driveway, Dean swears Castiel exhales in relief.

"I'll get the kid and the door, you grab baby?"

Cas nods.

With Jane's hand in his, Dean makes his way up the walk, jiggling Jane's arm until she giggles and pulls away. He unlocks their front door and pushes it open, sending Jane inside and watching as Castiel approaches him with the car seat in hand.

They stop in the entryway, Castiel bending to unbuckle the baby and tucking her into his arms, swaying gently.

"We made it," Dean says, kissing Cas' forehead and lifting Jane to rest on his hip.

The three of them turn their gaze to the bundle in Cas' arms, matching expressions of excitement on their faces.

"Weltome home!" Jane enthuses, Castiel chuckles and nods.

"Yes, welcome home, Naomi Rose Winchester-Novak," he agrees. "I think you're going to like it here."


	19. Epilogue

_5 Years Later_

Dean paces the floor just outside the ballroom, scrubbing a hand over his mouth, chest overflowing with nerves.

He swore he'd never go to one of these things again, but that was almost five years ago, and the last time he'd come, he'd met Cas. And that had led to a whirlwind romance, a couple more rugrats at home, a fucking _dog_ , hyphenated last names, and even his and his robes from Cas' co-workers as a congrats.

But now here he is again, running holes in the floor, and dressed in a goddamn suit. (Charlie's idea.) How he gets himself into these shit-ass situations, he'll never know.

 _Having fun yet? ;)_ Charlie's text buzzes in Dean's pocket, and he stares down at the screen grimly.

**I haven't even gone inside yet.**

Charlie's responses come almost immediately. _What? Why?_

_You can do this Winchester._

_It's just like riding a horse, remember?_

  1. **A) Never ridden a horse, and B) it's been way too long Charlie. The last time I did this...** Dean sighs, tapping against his keyboard. **Well, you know how that ended.**



Charlie sends an emoticon rolling its eyes. _You got over it. Now, don't text me again until you've been in that room for at least fifteen minutes._

Dean smiles as he types out a response. **How are the kids, by the way? Did Jude eat? Have Rosie and Jane had a bath?**

_I mean it, Dean. Get the hell in there._

Tucking his phone back in his pocket, Dean takes a deep breath. _Just like riding a horse_ , he tells himself. It doesn't help _at all_ , but what the hell, he's trying okay?

He straightens his tie and suit coat then reaches for the small, clear box he left resting on an empty table next to him. This better fucking work.

When he finally talks himself into pushing through the ballroom doors, it's like he's thrown back five years, decorations the same, people the same, even the pit at the bottom of his stomach is the same.

And there's Cas. Sitting alone at a table, staring at his drink with a small frown, the frown Dean grew to love over the years. He's been missing that frown. And those eyes, and those hands, and his- Yeah, Dean should stop missing things and just go talk to the dude. He looks lonely.

“Hey, stranger,” Dean says, voice gruff. Castiel almost looks relieved when he looks up to find it's Dean pulling out a chair next to him.

“I didn't know you were here,” Cas admits. He eyes the box Dean sets gingerly on the table, and his frown deepens.

Dean raps his knuckles on the table a couple of times, nervous. “I didn't know _you_ were here.”

“Well,” Cas says, tipping his glass back to take a swallow. “I am.” The guy always was a snippy bastard.

But Dean smiles, because yeah. That's the guy he fell in love with five years ago. And goddamnit he's still just as beautiful, and annoying, and _frown-y_ as we was then, and it's sending fireworks bursting in Dean's belly.

“What're you doing with the flowers?” Castiel asks, pointing his empty glass at the box resting at Dean's elbow. There's a glimmer in his eyes, and Dean shifts in his chair, anxious.

“Well,” Dean says, opening the box, and holding it out to Cas. “I- I wanted to ask you to- Will you-” He stops. This is stupid. This is really, really stupid.

“Out with it,” Cas prompts.

Dean catches the other man's eyes, nods, and takes a settling breath. What's he got to lose, right? Ha. “I wanted to ask you if you'd go to prom with me.”

Cas' eyes go soft as he blinks down at the flowers, then back up at Dean. “Prom?”

“Yeah,” Dean shrugs. “Y'know since I never had the balls to ask you back when we were teenagers, I thought now would be a good time?”

Cas is smiling now, eyes soft and framed by these gorgeous little lines that have been made more and more prominent with time. “That's why you wanted to just meet me here,” he says, realization dawning.

“Yeah, hence me saying _text me when you get here_.”

“I was running late, Dean. I barely had time to shower and get into a suit so I could make it on time.”

Dean waves Cas' comment off, smiling. Adorable huffy asshole. “Whatever,” he counters, “doctor-husbands get a free pass. Now we doing this or what? I haven't seen you in like three days, and I'm about ready to just blow this Popsicle stand and ravish you like I haven't seen you in three days.”

“Prom first,” Cas mutters softly, reaching for the flowers still held out for him. He pulls out a set, his boutonniere nestled right next to Dean's inside the box, and cradles it in his palm. “Sunflowers are my favorite.”

“I know. I have been married to you for five years, y'know.” Dean's smile is cheeky as he reaches for the boutonniere and leans in to pin it to Cas' lapel.

“Why were you so nervous?” Cas wonders, doing the same for Dean.

Dean stands then, reaches out a hand. “Because the last time I asked someone to prom she ended up saying no because I wasn’t ‘rich or successful enough’ to be seen with.”

“Lydia?” Castiel questions, frowning like he remembers.

Dean shudders. “Yeah.”

“Well, I hope this experience was better than that,” Cas says, smiling.

“Much.”

~

Dean leads Cas down the hall towards the lounge he'd talked the manager into clearing for the night. Inside the lights are dimmed, and they're alone save the man seated at the keys of a shiny black grand piano.

“Any requests for the DJ?” Dean asks, leading Cas out onto the dance floor.

Castiel's lips twitch into a smile. “I might have an idea,” he says before leaving Dean to approach the piano. After a nod from the pianist, Castiel is back, and he's wrapping an arm around Dean's waist, smile bright on his face.

“What're you up to, Novak?” Dean wonders, smiling back. He can't help it. His husband is so fucking adorable sometimes.

“Just listen.”

Soon notes fill the air, and Dean frowns. He's heard this before. He just can't remember exactly when. But then, he looks at Cas, his bright eyes, his dark hair, the prim navy pinstriped suit he wears, and Dean remembers. He remembers seeing Cas in a chair across the room from him, a glass of punch in his hand, and his eyes clouded. But his hair was combed and he looked... nice.

Cas had gone with Daphne Allen that year – as friends – Dean remembers hearing, but he still remembers how jealous he felt watching Cas with her. He doesn't even think they danced together, but still.

And Dean had been with someone, too - after the whole Lydia fiasco someone had asked Dean. But she'd gone to powder her nose with the rest of her friends and had been gone almost the whole song. He and Cas had sat stealing glances at one another the whole time until Daphne and Dean's date returned.

“‘I Could Not Ask For More,’” Dean finally says. “The song they played at our senior prom.”

Castiel nods, swaying them both to the music. “The song we should've been dancing to together.”

“God you're a sap.” Dean chuckles, drawing Cas closer.

“Says the man who set up our own private prom on the same night we reunited five years ago.”

“Whatever,” Dean says, “you love me.”

Cas' eyes are twinkling when he looks up at Dean. “I do.”

“Kinda fitting, huh?” Dean points out, humming along to the song. The words are coming back to him, too, and as Castiel nods at him, smiling softly, Dean lets them roll off his tongue.

_Lying here with you_

_Listening to the rain_

_Smiling just to see the smile upon your face_

_These are the moments I thank God that I'm alive_

_These are the moments I'll remember all my life_

_I found all I've waited for_

_And I could not ask for more_

_Looking in your eyes_

_Seeing all I need_

_Everything you are is everything to me_

_These are the moments_

_I know heaven must exist_

_These are the moments I know all I need is this_

_I have all I've waited for_

_And I could not ask for more_

_I could not ask for more than this time together_

_I could not ask for more than this time with you_

_Every prayer has been answered_

_Every dream I have's come true_

_And right here in this moment is right where I'm meant to be_

_Here with you here with me_

_These are the moments I thank God that I'm alive_

_These are the moments I'll remember all my life_

_I've got all I've waited for_

_And I could not ask for more_

_I could not ask for more than the love you give me_

_'Coz it's all I've waited for_

_And I could not ask for more_

_I could not ask for more_

~

“This was perfect, Dean, thank you.”

The pianist is gathering his things for the night, and Dean is leading Castiel back towards the door, head still spinning from holding Cas so close for so long, the quiet that had settled around them as they swayed in time to the piano. He and Castiel may have never been to prom together, but this feels better than if they had anyway.

“Oh, the night's not over, sweetheart,” Dean quips, leading Castiel towards an exit. Outside the air is warm and light, the scents of May still hanging thick in the air, honeysuckle, and grass, and wind.

Castiel follows Dean, but not without asking, “What's next?”

“Next,” Dean says, approaching the Impala, “we make out in the back seat of my car.”

The grin Castiel offers in response has Dean fumbling with his keys in anticipation. So what if they're two grown men with three kids and a whole fucking farm at home? Dean is going to tuck his husband into the back of his car and grope him like they're both eighteen years old again. It's his married _right_.

By the time Dean's got the door open, Castiel has slipped out of his suit coat and loosened his tie. He's well on his way to being taken apart. And Dean can't wait to get him the rest of the way there.

They fall into the back seat with a grunt, Castiel laying himself out on the bench seat, and Dean crowding over him, and once they've maneuvered the door shut (a couple more grunts and some repositioning was all it took) Castiel reaches for Dean's tie, pulls him down.

“Kiss me,” he grates, voice gravelly and low. Dean makes some sort of fucking embarrassing noise in the back of his throat, and then he leans in and seals his mouth over Cas'.

They've been doing this song and dance for awhile now, making out, having sex, learning each other's bodies and kinks. But here with Cas right now, it all feels entirely different. Like there's new territory to be mapped, new sounds, and feelings to be experienced, and Dean dives in greedily, rutting against Cas' thigh as their kisses grow deeper, longer, messier.

“Have you checked in on the kids?” Castiel asks, gasping when Dean leans into him, kisses his neck and bites his way down to Cas' collarbone.

“‘Bout an hour ago. They're fine.”

Cas hums, hips aligning with Dean's where Dean can feel his husband's hardening length beneath him.

“You wanna keep going?” Dean wonders.

Castiel lets loose a groan as Dean rolls against him experimentally. “Is that a trick question?” he bites out.

“A simple yes would've been fine y'know,” Dean hedges, and then he's lost again in Cas' fingers sliding along his vertebrae in long, deep strokes, Cas’ tongue darting in and out of his mouth, the windows that are beginning to fog, and Cas’ thick fucking thigh underneath him, offering the perfect amount of pressure.

Castiel grabs Dean's tie again, guides him up from where Dean's been laving at the crook of Cas' neck. “Is this how you imagined it? When you were younger?” Castiel pants, eyes blown wide in lust.

Dean smiles, bends to kiss his husband. “No,” he admits. “It's better.”

**THE END**

  


 

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm also on tumblr!](https://lemonsorbae.tumblr.com/)


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